Halfway Between
by BeyondFloating
Summary: Veil was murdered on November 1st, 1942. Her life after that only became more complicated. In an attempt to save others from a fate like hers, she enters Dracula's castle. In doing so, she comes across another whose existence is trapped halfway between life, and death. Danger comes in more faces than just that of the devil. Sometimes, they come in the face of an angel.
1. Chapter 1

Veil was accustomed to the sensation of death.

While every type of dying carried its own unique kind of pain, she likened it to flavors of ice cream. 'It tastes different, but it's all still the same damn thing.' How you _got_ there might be new and interesting - but it was all, at its core, the same. And it all lead to the same place.

Lying flat on her back, staring up at the beige drop ceiling tiles of the little european cafe, she touched her hand to the wound in her chest, and lifted it to look at the blood dripping off of her fingers. Yup. Great. Definitely dying. It was painful to breathe - so she opted not to. The darkness at the edges of her vision would come faster that way. Sooner that happened, the sooner it'd be over with.

The bullet had punched its way straight through her ribcage, and made easy work of bone, lung, and flesh. The man was an excellent shot, she'd give him that. And his guns packed much more of a punch than they had any business doing. Enchanted, she assumed. It went with the territory, she figured.

Her mind flashed back to that time she watched West World as a kid. Man, Yul Brynner made a really weird villain.

That made her laugh, the abruptness of the thought - well, she tried to laugh and only succeeded in coughing blood into her mouth. The human brain was a strange thing. When deprived of oxygen, or deprived of blood, it seemed to default to the weirdest things. Odd thoughts, odd memories, and just plain weird 'things' pop out of nowhere as the mind struggled to grasp onto the last shred of life and humanity it had before it sank away into nothingness.

Going through it a few more times than most people, she knew what to look for. Veil knew the telltale signs and had a few more chances to observe the phenomenon and think over how peculiar it really was. But it still struck her as funny, the idle thoughts the act of dying would dredge up. Veil closed her eyes as her lungs burned, the hole in her chest burned. She could feel her body began to shut down.

A hand grasped one of hers, and she looked up confused. Looking up at a man with chestnut hair and sharp eyes, wearing the white collar of a priest. He held her hand gently and began speaking prayers in latin, holding two fingers aloft and crossing the air in front of him.

It almost made her laugh again. She probably would have if, y'know, she didn't have a hole in her chest that felt like it was the size of a golf ball.

"Don't bother," she heard a familiar voice say from a table nearby.

"What?!" the priest exclaimed and looked away from her, interrupted and appalled the crass statement.

"Give her a minute."

* * *

Once more, he was called awake by his duty. Once more, he was called to rise. Each time he climbed from his carefully concealed tomb beneath the ground, his heart grew heavier. Each time he donned his sword and went out into the night air to fulfill his purpose, he became more tired of it all.

Not that he would ever voice such a complaint. His was a heavy burden, and one that he carried alone. His sprites and familiars made for poor conversation - and truth be told, he was quite well aware that he was no better. It was a skill that he had never paid much value, and had no desire nor opportunity to practice.

And so, once more into the night, he journeyed. Once more, he sought the corruption that had awoken him. Once more, he-

" _Lasa armele jos!"_

A blinding light washed over him, and he shielded his eyes with his arm, hissing as it brought him nearly physical pain. It was not the sun - indeed, it seemed to be somehow _brighter._ More directed. His eyes were beginning to adjust - but slowly. He had spent much time in the darkness of his crypt.

" _Lasa armele jos! Acum!"_ the voice screamed in Romanian again, and then repeated, this time in English, his accent thick. "I said, _drop your fucking weapon!"_ The angry voice, from behind the source of the intolerably bright light hollered once more.

Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes narrowed his eyes, and offered a single word in response.

"No."

* * *

Romania was a… weird country, Veil decided. She honestly couldn't tell if she liked it or not. It was certainly _very_ far away from what she was used to, really not having traveled through Europe besides England and the UK in general. She was standing out on the balcony of their hotel suite. They had booked a few rooms at the 'Casa Wagner' in Brasov.

There were four reasons: One, it was in a cute little 15th century building with exposed beams and it felt a lot more like they were in Romania than staying at some Holiday Inn. Two, it wasn't under $50.00 a night. Yeah, sure, the exchange rates were awesome, but her argument was that they were probably both about to die, so, spend it while you got it. Three, their website had an english option. And most importantly, four:

It was an hour and a half east of where Dracula's Castle had appeared. Or 'manifested,' which was her friend Richard's choice of words, not hers.

Originally, she had wanted to stay at a cute little 'chalet' (something the united states decidedly didn't have any of) at the foot of the mountain… but her friend in question had arranged a meeting. A meeting she was _very_ uneasy about.

It was impossible to tell when the castle had actually shown up. No one had been looking for it, buried in the remote 'Piatra Craiului' mountain range. (Veil had tried six times to pronounce it, and had since decided to give up.)

Honestly, it wasn't the appearance of the castle at all that had first garnered any attention. It could have been there for weeks or months, nobody knew. Or at least, nobody with the satellite data was sharing.

What people _did_ notice… were the murders. At first, it was just an uptick in crime. Romania wasn't known for being a safe country - and a beheading in an alley was unfortunate, but not international news. They had enough political and personal strife that a single incident was no big deal.

Two people, dismembered - blood streaking the wall like it had been caused by a gigantic piece of farm equipment? Okay, sure. Gross. No big deal.

But it didn't stop. Brasov wasn't the only town under siege by what seemed to be at first a maniac with a chainsaw. Then several maniacs with very _large_ chainsaws. Then, who knew what could possibly cause the kind of mauling and death that they were now seeing? Reports of incidents in towns all around the countryside, in villages and little back roads, were now more common than not. It was actually the map of the murders, and the outwardly reaching circular pattern that lead people to the mountain range, not the other way around.

Then the first cellphone video of a _monster_ eating a man on the hood of his own car, broke over the internet. Front page of Reddit, and that was the end of that. It was international news.

 _Fake!_ Screamed one party, saying it was all bad CGI footage. You could see the wires. You could see the motion blur. _End of the world!_ Screamed another. Signs calling for mankind to repent. Fingers pointed every which way. ISIS. Putin. Trump. North Korea. Aliens. Everyone had somebody to blame.

It was a very small group of people - keeping off the main chatter, staying to back channels and email, who had an idea of what might be happening. But no one was quite sure. Not until the first photo of the castle was sent out amongst her friend's colleagues.

The black spires against the red sky - a sky that was dark with twilight regardless of the time of day. Spires that looked like black, jagged claws clawing at a blood-soaked sky. It matched the historical descriptions far, far too well not to be the castle of lore.

One quick shouting match between them, a long conversation, a bottle of wine, and a night to think about it… and here they both were. Brasov. They were going in, at the same time most people were going _out._ Most of the people had fled, or were fleeing. Romanians were superstitious - and considering current events, rightly so. The city was quickly becoming a ghost town. And now, there was a military curfew in place. The death toll had reached just over a thousand in this city alone. Total, over fifteen hundred deaths were attributed to these… 'things' that were seen in the streets, or stalking through the woods after dark.

The gunshots would ring out after dark - and the military were reporting to the news that they were successfully killing the monsters. But no bodies were ever able to be recovered. 'They just dissolve' was the official word. It didn't help the opinion of the outside world that this was some giant scam - some giant lie. But here, in the city in question, it was hard to deny what was going on.

It had been surprisingly easy to get to Brasov. But now that they were here, it was hard to get any further than that.

Veil walked from the balcony of their hotel suite - two rooms, joining a shared 'living area,' and went up to the little CRT television set that sat on the bar against one wall. (Flat screens weren't a thing here yet, it seemed.) It had the dial on the volume lowered all the way - as it wasn't going to provide anything useful unless there was a swarm of monsters, or if the castle launched an attack, or something. It was in Romanian anyway - a language neither of them spoke. Her friend tried, and did alright for himself - but he was hardly fluent. 'Why can't languages read aloud like they are written?!' he always complained about the four languages he could fluently _read,_ but was useless speaking.

She chewed on her deep blue painted lower lip as she watched another caught video clip of a winged demon knocking over a cameraman, and tearing him apart in a fashion normally reserved for SAW movie sequels. Veil cringed as she watched the painful death of an innocent man. She turned away, not being able to watch any more of it.

Veil knew she'd see enough of it first hand, soon enough anyway.

The country had figured out that the creatures were coming from the mountain range, and had placed barricades on all the roads leading up to it, cutting off all information sources on what might be going on.

At least her friend had sources. From what he could gather, the Romanian military were now gunning down - or attempting to, anyway - anything that moved on those roads. Anything that looked like it might not be human. Or weren't human _anymore._ They had attempted to make military moves against the structure they had unexpectedly found buried in the mountain range - the one whose existence no one had any explanation for. But no one was returning.

Veil chewed on her blue painted lip again, and finally turned to look at her friend, who was sitting at a table in the center room of their suite, tapping away at his laptop. They should be at the chalet at the foot of the mountain, trying to find a way in. Not in Brasov, trying to set up a meeting that amounted to a deathwish. "This is dumb. No. Correction. This is _incredibly dumb._ "

"Yes, and? What would you like me to recommend instead?"

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted you to admit the fact that this is _stupid,"_ she said with her arms crossed across her chest.

"Consider it admitted."

"Great."

A long silence, and a quick glance at her from over his rimless glasses. "Can we move on now?"

"Fine."

"I'm glad we are in accord."

She looked back over to the 'gentleman' sitting at the table behind her - a distinguished looking man in his mid forties, dressed in a knit vest, tweed, and a cliche sense of fashion that screamed 'history professor.' And it was appropriate. He was.

Veil stuck her tongue out at him - although he wasn't paying attention. He was too engrossed in whatever he was looking at on his laptop, switching between that and an old book next to him, flipping back and forth with a practiced focus.

She made fun of him _constantly_ for basically being Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, sans the british accent. He would always grumble something about 'nobody has some secret society of bookworms. We're too hard to organize. You should see the email chains.'

"You can understand why I'm a little dodgy about tossing the Order an email saying; 'Hey guys! We know that's Dracula's castle, and not only that, we have a potential bazooka for you! A bazooka you don't know exists." Her smirk faded as she talked. "A bazooka you might use once and _then dissect or torture or something else horrible afterwards._ "

"Yes," the man said idly, clearly not listening.

"You realize that, y'know…" Veil drew it out slowly, mostly for her own amusement, since he wasn't paying attention. "I'm the bazooka in question?"

"Yes."

Veil narrowed an eye. "So you're cool risking my life?"

"Yes."

" _Richard!_ " Veil snapped. That finally caught his attention and his head snapped up.

"Hum? Oh. … Sorry. I mean... " Richard paused, and pushed his frameless glasses up his nose with the push of a middle finger on the bridge. "It's regretful, but… I don't know how else to get their attention."

"We could just go up there on our own."

"We wouldn't make it past the barricade. Neither of us have the credentials, and from what I can tell, the Romanian military isn't exactly _friendly_ to a pair of Americans waltzing up on them. The Order is a direct subset of the Roman Catholic Church. They are an international entity and may likely have the pull required-"

"I could just walk us _through_ the barricade." She offered with a helpful smile, gesturing her hand in a walking motion with two fingers - knowing exactly what reaction was going to follow.

Richard blanched. "No. Just, no. I'm sorry. I can't do that again. Never again. Physical discomfort aside, you know what will happen if you do. You know who's attention you'll attract..." Richard let the foreboding statement trail off.

Veil sighed again, and slumped into a chair across from Richard at the table in the center of their hotel suite. She slung one leg over the upholstered arm, and kicked her knee-high-booted leg idly. Looking down at a printed map from google in front of her, with X's marking locations, she began to spin it underneath her fingers as a distraction, watching the edges lift from the table as she did.

The table had long since ceased its duty of serving food and instead became a cluttered, paper-ridden workspace for the 'scholastically insane' as she called him. Richard had gone back to typing, scrolling through whatever resources he was pouring over. She pulled her long, dark blue hair out of her ponytail and ran both her hands through it, and let out a long breath. "Fine. I know. I know we can't just walk up there. But that second part is inevitable. I'm _going_ to get his attention. With or without the order, I give it a day before I have to do something eventually. And then 'He' will notice. And then 'He' will know where are are anyway, and then 'He' sends his goons. Like 'He' always does."

Richard barely glanced at her over the top of his glasses again. "You might be safe in there." Veil scoffed hard, and he let out a small grunt at his dumb statement. "Safe from that threat, anyway. I doubt he can get inside that castle. From what records we have, it doesn't let people in unless it's Master wants to."

"So you think the Order is going to knock on the door, and Dracula'll just say 'hey guys,' open the door and let them _waltz_ right in."

"Or he'll open it because you're there."

"He doesn't know what I am."

"No, but his _friend_ certainly does." Richard tapped his finger on the page of the open book next to him. A sketch of a figure, garbed in tattered robes, floating over the floor. A vicious, curved blade in its skeletal hands.

"How do we know his 'friend' you read about in those journals is actually the same entity? We don't. Anybody can stomp around and call themselves anything they want. It's not like you need to pass a DNA test before you can go around calling yourself 'Death,'" she said through a laugh, kicking her foot again. "If I told the Van Helsing's or the Belmonts my name was the Queen of Fuckin' Sheba, they'd write _that_ down too."

She began twirling a strand of her long blue hair around her finger, watching it reflect the light as she did. 'Upscale, classy punk' was what she liked to call herself. Really, she just woke up one day with the urge to not look like she did the day before. So she made a change. It was a freeing experience. And she relished those when she had the chance.

Veil kept quiet again for a long moment, deciding on her next words. "Richie, I'm going to be surrounded by people who are going to want to kill me. The Order, Dracula, and we _both_ know Asshole and his Goon are going to come after me. This isn't going to end well for me, no matter how it shakes out. I'd really appreciate it if you'd consider why I don't like the idea of sticking my neck out for a bunch of Catholic monster hunters. When, y'know, I'm kinda really sorta probably gunna get on that least real quick."

Richard finally stopped typing, and looked up at her, with an unusually forlorn look in his eyes. "I cannot stand the idea that…" he began, paused, and rethought his words. "You are a dear friend. Indeed the closest I may have ever had. But we agreed this thing… This structure, the things inside… They can't be set loose. We both know the armed forces are useless. And the Order… I only have writings on how they used to operate. I have no idea as to how capable they are now. And this is _Dracula_. They haven't faced him in… What, two, three hundred years? Or more? They will need all the help they can get. We're going to need all the help _we_ can get."

He closed his laptop lid - and Veil blinked. His sincerity was one thing - but his focus was another thing entirely. Richard was never one to turn his attention away from his laptop - or whatever snippet of information he was feeding on at the time. He placed his hands on top of the still-warm piece of technology, looked down at it for a moment, and paused before he spoke again. "I'm sorry, V… I really am. I don't see another way… If you're changing your mind - If you want to leave-"

"No..." Veil ran both her hands through her blue hair again and shifted to sit straight in the chair. "We talked about this. This has to be done. I can't sit back knowing there was something I could do."

"Maybe you will get some answers."

"More likely dismembered," Veil muttered.

* * *

To: Richard Blanchard

From: Monsignor Rodolfo

RE: Regarding the situation east of Brasov.

We are not in the business of turning away assistance in these dark and faithless days. Regardless of their potential ramifications.

Our team will contact you when they arrive to the area.

Richard sat next to the window in the little cafe they had chosen, a nice place on a main street through the center of town they had found. The coffee there was incredible. That was one fact that was undeniable to him - Europeans made better coffee. Period.

He and Veil had chosen this place to meet, despite the Order's keen protest to the contrary. It was public, and out in the open. Exactly the reason why they preferred it, and 'the Order' didn't. The priests of the 'Ordo ut Solis' - the ancient holy order of demon, vampire and monster hunters - were a secretive bunch. In fact, they had been very keen on making themselves only a myth and a legend since the early days of their creation in the ninth century.

But Richard's specialty was in myth and legends - and specifically from where they derived their fact. It wasn't hard for Richard to find them - to find a way to contact them. To know what words to use, to garner a response. He had, from an early age, and for a single, deep seated reason, become obsessed with the myths behind secret societies, ancient orders and the monsters that inspired them. It seemed at the basis of every secret organization, there was a vampire, a demon or an angel.

More specifically, Richard was focused on _stopping_ these cults and societies, where they meant harm. That was where he and Veil shared a keen interest. And in fact, how they had first met, so many years ago. And now, why they were both here. Doing what might be the most dangerous thing either of them have ever done. Certainly the most for Richard - he couldn't speak for Veil.

The coffee shop was about as public as they could get - in a town that was quickly becoming an empty one. Very few people remained, and even fewer were walking the streets in a city that was on the verge of declaring evacuation orders.

The Order had insisted on meeting at a local church - specifically the Biserica Neagra. 'Even though it was now a Lutheran congregation?' Richard had retorted to them. 'We are all children of God, and all holy ground is a sanctuary for any man. Unless your compatriot is wary holy ground,' was the response.

Richard had fumed over that for a while, before kindly replying that, no, while neither he nor his compatriot had any issue setting foot on hallowed ground - they prefered a place where they could not be so easily ambushed.

While Richard hoped that the Order wouldn't immediately attack Veil - her concerns were founded. 'Lenient' and 'accepting' were words never once used to describe the holy order.

When the castle had appeared, Richard had called Veil immediately. They needed to go. They needed to help. They both had their reasons. But by themselves, they were useless against the magnitude of the castle and the creatures within it. Their individual contributions might not tip the scales in favor of the living - but it may _just._ It was a chance neither of them were willing to pass up. And 'The Order' was the only group still in existence that might be trying to do the same.

Richard looked up, glancing at his companion where she sat across the room from him at her own table, swiping away at her cellphone, playing some nonsense game that seemed suited only to these moments of idle distraction. Her long, wavy hair was dyed a deep, dark blue. The color shone in the sunlight even as it obscured her face. He had known her before the decision to dye it - and while those kind of things were never really his style, he had to admit it suited her quite well.

He had bought her an iced coffee - her favorite, he needn't ask anymore - and she sipped it through blue-painted lips that were carefully colored to match her hair.

Richard smiled faintly, despite himself. As much as he chided the girl for her ridiculousness, he was fond of her. He had grown accustomed to her banter, and her light-heartedness through things that would seemingly crush others. Although he was eager to write off the chance that the Order would lash out against her - the thought of being without her company hurt him deeply. They had spent so much of their lives as friends, it seemed impossible to see his life otherwise. For that reason alone, he had put his foot down. Cafe, or no meeting. He wouldn't walk them into a trap.

The door dinged - and he credited Veil for not looking up, although her shoulders tensed visibly. That cue was all he needed to know that his meeting was going to start - quite punctually - one minute before the scheduled meeting time.

Richard stood up, turned, and smiled thinly at the two figures who approached. "Ah, hello then. Coffee?"

* * *

Veil tried to look like she was utterly focused on her cellphone game. Tried to look like maybe she didn't even speak english, as she sipped at the iced coffee in front of her. Luckily it took about an ounce of brainpower to poke idly at the screen as she listened to the conversation across the room. Her hair had fallen over her eyes, and it allowed her the shield to glance up without being noticed.

Two men had walked into the cafe as the door had dinged. One of the men had blondish-red, curly hair cut in a neat style that looked like it was overdue for a cut. He was shorter, and not quite as lanky as his companion. The other had long chestnut colored ponytail, pulled back at the base of his neck. That one stood a few inches above his friend, and was thinner in frame. Both looked in their thirties, both dressed head to toe in black, with long coats that almost touched the ground as they walked. White clerical collars pointedly visible. What was also pointedly visible, was that they were both armed.

The redhead had a holster at each hip, and a gun in each holster. The other man only had one gun - but she heavily doubted he was any less prepared. Each of them wore a strange necklace, one that looked, gold and white, but she couldn't quite make out what the symbolism was.

Richard hadn't been wrong. 'The Order' still existed. And these were two of them. This was actually going to happen.

Well, shit _._

Part of her really hoped they wouldn't show, and they'd just have to go about their merry way and try and find some other way to save the world.

"Ah, hello then. Coffee?" she heard Richard ask, his nervousness leaking through with all the subtlety of an air-horn. He was a history professor, and _not_ used to dealing with men with guns. While she wouldn't exactly call it her specialty, if one of the two of them had to put somebody down, it was always going to wind up being her. The poor man really tended to crumble under the pressure when a weapon was involved.

"No, thank you," one man said, with a thick Italian accent. - the one with the chestnut hair in the ponytail. "The offer is generous. I wish we were able to partake of proper manners, but… we are short on time, I feel." The man glanced out the window and at the sun, now past midday, making his implication clear. 'We have business to do before dark.'

"I cannot disagree," Richard replied and motioned for them to sit at the table.

The two priests sat down at the table with Richard, and he closed his laptop as they did so. He went to open his mouth, but was cut off as the chestnut-haired man interjected. "We would also very much like to…" he paused, as he searched for the words. English was very clearly not his first language.

"Let me," the redhead cut in. He smiled broadly, his blondish-red hair and irish accent were an immediate tip off as to where he came from. The Italian priest sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, readying himself for embarrassment with a practiced ease. "What he's tryin' to say, 'friend,'" he said, ignoring his companion's annoyance. "Is let's cut to the chase, huh?" We've come here to destroy that damnable castle, and the thing that's drivin' it. We don't got much time. You say in your email you want to help us, that you've got some crucial intel and somebody who can help us. Somebody you say we might not like, part and partial to the _why_ they can help us."

"Conrad," the Italian said quietly, trying to get 'Conrad' the Irishman to stop talking. "I spoke to you of interrupting."

"About," Conrad sneered. "'About' interrupting. Nobody says 'of' anything anymore. Read a damn magazine will you, for chrissakes? And besides, you know I don't listen, whenever you tell me not to talk."

"Clearly. And language, Conrad."

"I told ya before, he bloody doesn't care! And if he does, he's got a lotta _weird_ priorities right about now," he wagged his thumb towards the window, gesturing at the condition of the nearly abandoned city with its nightly climbing death toll.

"I, eh," Richard stammered for a moment - which was very unlike him. He was clearly upended by the two bickering-and-heavily-armed priests in front of him. These two _weren't_ what either of them were expecting to meet as emissaries of 'The Order.' "My associate who I insist could be valuable to this cause-"

"Who is this associate?" asked the Italian. "Why are they unique?"

"I would prefer not to say until I can ensure their safety-"

"Do you intend to join us inside the castle walls?" the Italian spoke again. "Do you intend to fight?"

"Well, n.. no, my doctorate is in history and lore… I've studied this castle, and all the strange cults that surround its appearances and disappearances. I know a great deal about its history and the history of the people who fought it in the past - but I would be no use in a fight," Richard said, clearly battling to regain his footing. He clearly hadn't expected having to make an argument for his place at the table.

"Then you will tell us - as our lives _are_ on the line - who we may be fighting alongside." The Italian leaned forward on his arms on the table. "It is our lives you put at risk, if this… asset of yours is instead a threat. Many times in our history we have chosen to fight alongside those of questionable origins and _many times_ they have betrayed us and cost _many_ lives."

Veil watched, trying not to look like she was looking, as Richard clenched his fists for a moment, before slowly relaxing them. They were letting him take his time in responding - and the professor was going to chose his words carefully, as he always did. "My associate is of no risk to you and yours, of that I can swear my life. And as is the case, if I am to remain behind, you may consider me a kind of hostage, should the unthinkable happen and my associate costs yours their lives."

 _Damnit Richard-_ Veil swore silently in her head. _You just made yourself cannon fodder, you idiot!_

The Italian leaned back in his chair, looking at Richard thoughtfully. "I have not even introduced ourselves, and already you pledge your life in exchange of betrayal, so little you think it to be plausible… Interesting."

"Oy, Gabe, what're you doing? We've been here five minutes and you've already got him on the defensive. You're muckin' this all up," the Irishman 'Conrad' snickered. "Look, alright - so, I'm Conrad. My socially challenged friend is Gabriel-" he pointed a finger at the Italian. "Now we're introduced, see? That ain't hard, Gabey-boy. He and I are the two who're plannin' to go in there to smoke out the joint. Although really, I'm going to do it by myself. Gabriel's really just there for _show._ "

Gabriel punched Conrad hard in the shoulder, which just caused the irishman to laugh, grinning wickedly back at his counterpart, as if daring him to go again and taking glee in the fact that his more stoic friend had 'snapped.' "See?" Conrad grinned, holding his hands out palms up as he gestured to the two of them. "We're people. Not cold, heartless priests in a tower somewhere. We're reasonable. You and your friend are safe as long as you're on the side of the livin.'"

"As he so crassly observed, we are now met," Gabriel cut back in, trying to resume control of the conversation from his loud-mouthed Irish 'brother.' "And the sun continues its journey closer to our deadline for today. So tell us and be done with it - are you going to help us, or not?"

"I have yet to have any promises from your end that my associate will not be… harmed by you in any way due to their unique circumstances," Richard replied.

The lump in her throat she hadn't realized had formed tightened - and Veil took another sip of her iced coffee, trying to loosen it. It became hard to even focus on the stupid cellphone game, and not just get up and leave. These two seemed 'human,' as Conrad had pointed out - and a little bit like actual people. But still… This could go very, _very_ poorly for her.

"We don't go lynchin' people that can help us take down an evil like what we're seeing here," Conrad said, shifting in his chair to sit sideways, leaning up against the wall and propping an arm against the back of the chair. "We used to. I don't blame you for thinkin' that. But these days are different ones by far. We're hardly in the position of turnin' people away."

"I will repeat myself. What guarantee can I give my associate in exchange that _you_ will not betray them? My life is on the line if the opposite is to occur. What do you place out for trade?"

"We have no idea what you bargain _with,"_ Gabriel replied. "And even so, we have no such guarantees. We have nothing to give or offer of any value to you, surely you understand that. You must go on faith."

"I am not the one you are trying to convince - and my associate is not a person who takes things on 'faith' terribly often. I am not sure what they will say," Richard muttered.

"Why don't you ask her then?" she heard Gabriel ask.

'Her.' He had said ' _her.'_ Richard hadn't used a gendered pronoun - and Richard was too good to mess up. Which meant only one thing.

You know that feeling when everyone is staring at you? That pins-and-needly 'what's wrong, did I spill something on myself' feeling? It crawled over her like insects. Veil's heart sank like a brick in a fountain. Short, fast, and a thunk at the bottom. _Oh, shit._

"Hey honey!" Conrad yelled across the coffee shop. "You there - Blue!"

Veil winced and didn't lift her head. Maybe, just maybe, they'd think she didn't speak english. Maybe, just maybe, they'd ignore her. "You're the only one left besides us," she heard Gabriel say dryly. "Everyone else - eh - made an exit, when we arrived."

"He means to say everyone else _left._ And they did. _Including_ the employees," Conrad added - and she could hear the grin in his voice.

Finally, she looked up - and realized all three men at the table were now looking at her. Veil glanced over her shoulder - over to the counter, and… yup. What he said was true. The place was empty, now. Entirely devoid of people. Just the four of them.

"Somethin' tells me they got spooked by a bunch of gun wearin' catholic priests," Conrad snickered. "Can't imagine why! Why, I think we look darn friendly."

Veil let out a long sigh and ran her hand through her blue hair, pushing it away from her face. Leaning back in the chair, she debated just leaving, right now. They couldn't catch her if they tried. But Richard and her had come this far to help. "God fucking damn it," she swore under her breath.

"Come on over, love. No need to be angry we found you out," Conrad said and waved his hand, as if coaxing her over.

"I'm not-" Veil tried to argue for a moment, tried to say she wasn't angry, and she had no idea what he was talking about - she had no idea what any of them were talking about. But it was far past the point of that doing any good. "Fine."

She stood up from the table, shoved her phone into her coat pocket, and walked up to them. She stood behind Richard, not wanting to take a seat, and looked at the two priests. Defiantly, she lifted the straw to her iced coffee and took a loud sip.

"This is the… associate of which you mentioned?" Gabriel asked, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Yup," she said with the straw still between her teeth.

"Would you like to sit?" Gabriel motioned to the seat in front of him.

Veil laughed, and finally took the straw out of her mouth. "No. No thanks, bud." She didn't need to be standing to 'nope' out of the conversation, but she was much happier standing.

"Nervous?" Gabriel asked, with a smile that Muse was sure wasn't supposed to be as threatening as it was.

The irishman Conrad was watching her, rubbing a finger along his goatee, thinking the whole thing over. She glanced at him, and then back to the Italian. "Honestly? Yes. These things don't usually go well for me. I don't like advertising what I am. When I tell people, they either scream and run, or try and do something horrible to me."

"Then why do this at all?" Gabriel asked her curious, leaning forward on his arms again. It wasn't a malicious question - it was an honest one.

Veil looked down at her iced coffee, and taking the straw in her other hand, stabbed at the ice as she thought. "The creatures inside that castle needs to be stopped. I have my own personal experience with things like them. My own personal, miserable experience. So if I can stop someone else from going through what I have, then, it's worth it. Whatever you people are capable of doing to me once this is all over, is worth it for the lives I might save." Veil looked back up at him after her little speech, and hoped it was good enough. _My life was over a long time ago,_ she added silently inside her head.

"Enough enemies of man live inside those walls," Gabriel spoke, attempting to sound comforting. "We will not add to those numbers, my child."

"Ugh, don't say crap like that," Conrad complained. "You ain't doin' yourself any favors. Can't you see she's not the sanctimonious type?"

Veil had to smile at the irishman. He had a sense of humor she could get behind. He smiled back at her, and took the opportunity to ask his own question.

"So…" Conrad said and waved his hand casually, elbow propped on the table, tracing a circle in the air as thought. "We've been taking bets the whole flight over… Well, okay, I was placing bets and nobody was taking them, but - whatever. What are you? What's the big deal?"

"Rip the bandaid off, huh?" Veil let out a puff of air and took another sip of coffee. She looked down at Richard, who, looking up at her with a worried expression, nodded his head once, regardless. If they were going to trust them with this, now was the time.

Veil looked back to the two priests. "I was murdered on November first, nineteen forty-two."

Gabriel and Conrad had pushed back and stood from the table so quickly the two chairs toppled over backwards. Conrad had pulled two guns from inside his long black coat and were pointing them at her. One was gold, the other silver. Cute.

Veil sighed, annoyed. She rolled her eyes. "You can shoot me, but it really-"

She was cut off by the distinct sound of a bullet leaving the chamber.

* * *

 **Chapter two should be out in a few days. Enjoy! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey Everybody! Thanks for the reviews. Here you go, part two! Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

The priest knelt over her, praying for her soul. Veil smiled at how rather… thoughtful it was of him. Cute, almost.

"Don't bother," she heard a familiar voice say from a table nearby.

"What?!" the priest exclaimed and looked away from her, interrupted and appalled the crass statement.

"Give her a minute."

That was the last thing she heard before sinking into the darkness.

It was like floating in a pool of water. A pool whose waters are as still as glass. It felt removed from time - removed from the world itself. And by all accounts, it was. No noise broke the stillness of this place. No air moved.

It wasn't hot. It wasn't cold. It wasn't anything at all, and Veil believed that was rather sort of the point of the whole thing.

Veil wondered sometimes if this place was real - or just a part of her own mind. She would've pegged it as the later, if it weren't for the others she could sense in the darkness. The other people, just outside of her reach. The others floating in the surface of the glassy, endless waters. The other people in this world who were dying. It was the only feeling of motion in this place. The only sense of any energy at all. It was the comings and goings of the souls around her.

They would descend into the water - float at the surface as she did, and then sink into the depths below. Never to return.

This was not a place that people typically stopped to think. It was the step just before the 'ever after.' The step before the door. The briefest moment in time, and imperceptible by everyone else. The body was dead, and now the soul must journey on. It was a hand reaching out for the knob - or the blade about to cut the cable between body and soul. That moment before your soul crossed over from life, to death. Just before that tie between body and soul was severed.

But for Veil - that door was forever closed. That was not a place she could ever go. This was as far as she would ever make it.

It felt like what she imagined a sensory deprivation chamber might feel like. In fact, that's how she tried to describe it to Richard in her many, many attempts to put words to the sensation that was so difficult to describe. To be so… suspended in nothingness. To be so alone and yet in such a crowd. Richard had tried to convince her to try a 'sensory deprivation' chamber once, to see what she might see or learn in the depths of her psyche. What things she must have seen but couldn't remember. But Veil was honestly too afraid to do anything like that. Too afraid, for one very good reason.

The voice she would hear in that darkness.

Ah! There you are…

* * *

Richard sat at the table, waiting. It's not that he was bored, but there was nothing else to do except sit, sip his coffee, and wait. Gabriel, the Italian priest, had stood up from Veil's lifeless body and crossed himself. He brushed dust from the floor off of the knees of his black pants, and looked sadly at Richard, as if in apology for what had just happened.

Conrad, the Irishman, was leaning against the service counter. He was cleaning his gun, muttering to himself about 'stupid girl' and 'said I could.'

"I beg forgiveness, but it seems-" Gabriel began to speak, but Richard cut him off by raising a finger. Gabriel blinked, confused, not accustomed to being interrupted.

Richard turned his wrist over and looked at his smartwatch. It was running a timer. Tracking the data on these kind of things was the only good he could do in a situation like this, so he was going to make sure it was done. "Right about…" he said quietly, and watched the seconds climb. "Now."

Veil's lifeless corpse gasped for air. Gabriel leapt away from beside her like he had seen a mouse - and was now standing next to Conrad, gun drawn, pointed at her. Conrad's other weapon was now drawn as well. Veil's back arched in pain, in agony as her body stitched itself back together. The breath she had gasped in slowly exhaled from her, and it was like mist - like cold air from a freezer streaming out into a hot summer's day.

Richard winced, sympathetic for his friend's pain. He couldn't really understand what it was like - and he hoped he never would - but that didn't stop him from feeling bad for the poor girl.

She was suddenly shivering, her body wracked with lack of heat. Her next breath was a moan as she rolled onto her side. Her back was stained with blood - as was the floor. A hole, an inch in diameter, had been punched through the fabric of her coat. But there was no longer a hole in her chest or her back.

Both priests were standing, guns trained, eyes wide in shock as Veil coughed and cleared her throat. The air from her lungs was slowly warming back to normal temperature - although the shivering showed no sign of stilling.

"Fuck… you…" Veil muttered from the floor.

"Good to see you're back with us," Richard said with a light smile.

Richard wanted to hop up and help her to standing - but she hated that. Hated being fussed over. So he watched as she pushed herself up to her knees, and then leaned heavily on the table, and pulled herself up to standing. Veil looked over at him, dark eyes tired and with a heavy lens of 'I told you so.' He shrugged in response, admitting yes, he was wrong, and held out his hot coffee to her.

Her shaking hand reached out to take it thankfully, and she sipped the hot liquid, and let out a sigh of relief as she did. She handed it back to him, and turned to face the two priests with the guns still trained on her. Veil leaned against the edge of the table, half sitting on it, using it for support.

"Sweet Jesus of Nazareth, what in God's name are you?!" Conrad asked, his expression fighting between shock and 'all business.' Gabriel was watching her far more keenly with a look of intrigue, although with clearly no qualms about putting a few more bullets into her if the need arose.

Veil looked down at the blood, and the sizable hole, in her black v-neck shirt decorated with a lacy, stylized print of a skull on it. She sighed, and muttered disappointedly 'I liked this shirt.'

"I believe I'd like to know the answer to his question, also-" Gabriel spoke, clearly impatient that she seemed to be in no hurry to address the two of them. "You are not vampire nor corpse. You are human, but clearly you are not. So what are you? A demon? A witch?"

Veil raised a shaking hand up to her face and ran her hand through her blue hair, smoothing it back. Her hands were still shaking, and she looked like someone who had been stuck out in a blizzard. Richard handed her his coffee again, silently insisting that she needed it more than he did. Veil took it with a grateful expression on her face. She clutched it to her like someone would a cup of hot cocoa after a long day of skiing.

"Will you answer us, girl?!" Conrad snapped. "What in God's name-"

"God had absolutely nothing to do with this," Veil angrily cut him off. She then sighed, and shook her head, seeing no point in getting upset at the two priests. "And there isn't a name for what I am. Because there aren't two of me. There shouldn't be one of me." She took a sip of the hot coffee. "I'm not going to hurt you or attack you. I'm here to stop Dracula, or whoever, whatever is inside that castle - and the things that are here killing people. And-" she stopped mid rant, and changed subject. "And will you two please put your guns away? I really don't want to get off the floor a second time today from a bullet hole."

"For the record," Conrad started. "You said I could."

"You should've waited until the second sentence, asswipe," Veil glared at him. "I was about to say, 'you can shoot me, but it really fucking hurts and will just make a mess, so please don't.'"

"To be fair, that's three sentences-"

"Conrad, shut up," Gabriel interrupted the half-banter, half-argument between the two of them. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small, pewter cross. He threw it to Veil, an underhand pitch. Not a lob to hurt her, but one clearly meant for her to catch.

Veil caught it easily, and looked down at it with a raised eyebrow and a curious expression. She turned it over in her hand, and shrugged. "Cute. Old. What'm I supposed to do? Kiss it?"

Gabriel was now pulling back the lever of his gun and clearing the chamber. He clicked the safety and put it into his pocket. Whatever had just occurred, clearly the Italian had all the information he needed, and the priest saw her no longer as a threat.

"Gabe…" Conrad warned.

"That relic is blessed, Conrad, you know it. No one of evil intent is allowed to touch it. She is as she says. Demons, witches, cursed souls cannot touch it. She is… human."

"Bullshit," Conrad responded with an incredulous laugh.

"I could sense it if she were otherwise! And that cross now proves it. Lower your gun."

"But I really don't want to."

"Can I get more coffee, boys?" Veil held up Richard's cup. "This one isn't even mine. I'm going to need a lot more of this if I'm going to try and explain my 'condition.'"

Conrad watched her, keenly, with the expression of a hunter looking at his quarry or a cop about to make an arrest - and then sighed, grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and undid the hammer of his own weapon.

Veil pushed away from the table to walk past him. Conrad reacted defensively, lifting his weapon again to train it on her. She laughed and smirked at him in response. Utterly unafraid of the weapon pointed in her face. "Try not to get twitchy, Trigger Finger - I'm just going for the scones."

* * *

Veil was clutching her large, hot coffee like it was her lifeblood. The shivering had stopped, but she still felt like she spent an afternoon locked inside an industrial freezer.

That was the unwelcome and unfortunate side effect to coming back from the dead. When the body truly shut down, it had no need to keep the proverbial engine running. Starting it back up was always jarring, to say the least. And like an old toyota in the dead of winter, it took a while for the heat to start pumping again.

So now, she sat across from two priests, of an ancient and holy order of demon hunters - and… found herself about to do one of her least favorite things to do in this world. Explain, to the best of her ability, exactly what the hell she really was.

'To the best of her ability' was a key part of that phrase, as honestly, she really only had a working understanding of her predicament at best.

"Well? You're leavin' us here in suspense," Conrad said impatiently, cutting into her train of thought.

"I know, I know, I'm trying to think about how to start!" Veil complained in response, and sipped her coffee. "I don't do this often. I try to avoid it at all costs. For this exact reason," she pointed at the hole in her shirt and shot him an accusatory glare.

"Oh don't hold that against me, darlin' - you said I could. And after what you'd just said to us, you can't honestly be surprised."

"Don't call me darling, Darby O'Gill."

Conrad laughed once, in a 'you didn't just say that' way, and leaned in to point at her, about to start off on a tirade. He didn't get the chance. "Why don't you start with your name, then," Gabriel interjected with a deep sigh. "Since we know Mister Blanchard here, but do not know what to call you…"

"Veil," she responded, leaning back.

"Fake name," Conrad pointed out, another mark on the tally of 'reasons why we shouldn't trust them.'

"I picked it. So yes, it is," she admitted with a dismissive shrug. "But I don't go by my 'real' name. I don't have a 'real' name, as far as I'm concerned."

"Why not..?" Gabriel asked curiously - not judging her, but eager to know more.

That is the other last thing she didn't want to do. Tell them the details. But she wanted them to believe her. And she wanted to be able to trust them. Veil tapped her fingers on the edge of the coffee mug, and finally committed. "Because the people who raised me, are the same people who murdered me. And the last thing I want to do is have any part of me be associated with them, and what they're responsible for doing."

"The people who… raised you… murdered you…?" Gabriel repeated slowly, wondering if he hadn't heard correctly through the language barrier.

Veil looked him in the eyes - her dark to his hazel ones, to make sure he understood the seriousness of her words, and then nodded. They sat there in silence for a long moment as the two priests took some time to let the weight of that settle in.

Conrad leaned back into his chair, and let out a long whistle. "So, you changed your name. Can't say I blame ya, I'll give you that. So, who was it, then, that raised you?"

Another pause before she answered. "A cult."

"In service to…?" Gabriel asked, leadingly, when she didn't offer anything more than that.

Veil shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and looked to Richard, who had been sitting silently this entire time with his hands folded in front of him. Did she really have to do this? Did she really have to give this all up? "I don't want to get shot again," she muttered to Richard.

"I promise I won't shoot you," Conrad sounded like a kid who was promising to his parents he'd stop throwing snowballs at his little sister.

Veil looked down into the reflection of the sun and the overhead lights on the surface of her coffee. She couldn't meet their gaze as she answered them. It was a name she hated saying, a name she loathed. A name that haunted her. She couldn't help but see the faces of those she grew up around, flashing in front of her face as she tried not to remember what it had been like. She clenched her hand into a fist for a moment, and then relaxed it. Trying to let it not bother her as much as it did. And failing miserably. "Asmodeus."

"The demon king?!" Conrad exclaimed loudly. Veil was glad the coffee shop had emptied out.

"Technically, a fallen archangel," Richard corrected. "A King in hell, but of heaven originally. If you believe most of the lore, anyway…" he trailed off, thoughtfully. "The Tolbit, the Talmud and the Key of King Solomon all have similar, but somewhat varying accounts of him."

And the people who raised me would have told you a very different story. She didn't volunteer that information. That was a long, long tale she wasn't ready to tell, and her mind's eye was busy replaying things she would rather forget. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. "They murdered me, to make me into something that would serve their master." She looked up and flashed a smirk, finding strength in her sarcasm as she usually did. "Free will is a fuck of a thing, huh?" She took in a breath and squared her shoulders. "So I said an emphatic 'no.' What they had made out of me, they weren't really prepared to handle. I got away - and I've been trying to put a stop to people like them, ever since."

"A noble cause," Gabriel had made himself a cup of tea, and he took a sip from it as he thought. "And you have spent the last… seventy years, doing this?" When she nodded, he continued. "You clearly then, do not age. And from what we have seen… you do not die."

"Oh-" Veil laughed, a snicker at herself more than anything else. "I die. Believe me, what you just saw right there was me, one hundred percent, bonafide dead. But I don't stay that way, that's the difference. And it fucking sucks." She glared at Conrad.

"I said sorry!" he threw up his hands like the kid being pestered by his parents again.

"Actually, no, you didn't," she quipped back.

"I didn't?"

"No," Richard confirmed.

Conrad paused, and blinked. "Oh. Well, eh, then… I'm sorry?"

Veil reached her hand out to him over the table. "Apology accepted." Conrad watched her hand for a minute, as if it were booby-trapped or had an old fashioned buzzer strapped to her palm. After a nudge to the ribs by his Italian companion, he reached out and shook her hand. She smirked at him. "I'm still not letting you call me 'darling.'"

"Fair, fair," Conrad grinned, and let go of her hand to lean back in his chair again.

"How is it that they had done this thing to you? Black magic?" Gabriel spoke up again, having largely ignored the exchange between her and Conrad.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." When Gabriel gestured for her to provide more, opted not to provide it. "I don't really know. Yes, it was a ritual. I don't know the details, and I didn't stick around to ask afterwards. I killed as many of them as I could and got the fuck out of there." Whole truth? No. Partial truth good enough for a pair of priests, one of whom had already shot her? Absolutely.

Gabriel nodded, slowly, looking out of the window thoughtfully for a long moment, as if piecing together parts of a jigsaw in his mind. Putting it all together with whatever knowledge he must be drawing from in his experience with the order. His eyes flicked back and forth between two unseen objects, like he was reading something in his mind's eye. He finally looked back to her, when he resumed the conversation. "You have yet to tell us, though… precisely what it was they 'made' out of you, as you said. What it is, you precisely are." He was watching her with a keen fascination. It seemed the Italian was the inquisitive one, looking at her like he was trying to suss out more clues for this particularly difficult jigsaw puzzle in front of him.

"There isn't a name for it," she said again. "I'm not supposed to exist. What I am, is wrong by all accounts. Nothing in any book, anywhere, ever. Trust me, he's looked," she said with a gesture to Richard. Who just smiled in response. "So there isn't a nice, neat package for it. I'll… do my best to explain it, but it's complicated. And I don't really get it myself." Veil let out a breath, shrugged, and committed to trying to explain something akin to explaining string theory to a corgi. "But okay, here we go. I'm only doing this once, so pay attention."

Veil took the salt and pepper shakers from the side of the table and moved them in front of her. "Everybody has a body," she gestured to the salt shaker, "and a soul," she gestured to the pepper.

The two priests nodded. She smirked. She felt like she was teaching a kindergarten class. She put the pepper shaker on top of the salt and balanced it there. "Most of the time, people's souls are inside people's bodies. Like a driver in a car. Sometimes, people have out of body experiences, or astrally project, whatever - they can wander off." She took the pepper off the salt, and pushed it across the table with her thumb. "But it doesn't stay that way. People always have to snap back." She replaced the pepper to the top of the salt. "Like an elastic. People always have to get back in the car."

She waited to make sure they were following her analogy before she continued. "Me?" She put the pepper to the side of the salt shaker. "I can't get back in the car. My soul, and my body, can't go back together all neat and tidy anymore. I'm stuck, my body here, and my soul… in the spirit plane." She put her coffee spoon down in between the two, representing the barrier between the plane of the living and that of the dead.

"The weird side effect of that, is this. I can take my body, and pull it into the spirit world…" she put the salt on the same side of the spoon as the pepper. "For a little while, before it has to come back." She replaced the salt on the other side of the spoon. "And vice versa. My spirit can come into the physical world," she put the pepper next to the salt. "Until it snaps back." She replaced it. "But I'm forever stuck halfway in between the two. Straddling the line. It's not… fun. But I've gotten used to it."

"You can… wait," Gabriel shifted, leaning closer to her. "I do not understand. You can pull your soul… here? To the physical world? And put your body on that of the spirit's?" He shook his head. "My english is…"

"Working just fine right now, Gabey-boy," Conrad interjected. "Thas' what she said."

"Not possible," Gabriel shook his head. "Not possible at all. Souls do not walk this earth as physical beings, and bodies cannot traverse the spirit realm. These things cannot be done."

"Then don't believe me. I don't really care. I came here to stop that thing, not win a Nobel Peace prize from you people," she argued, frustrated. She went to stand up, but Richard put his hand on her arm. Seriously? He wanted to stay and put up with more of this? Veil hated being under a microscope - and this was a pretty close lens.

"Show them," Richard urged quietly. "I know you don't want to. But we're not getting up there on our own. You know we aren't."

Veil let out another low groan and sighed heavily. Fine. Just because it was the truth, didn't mean she had to like it. If words wouldn't work… Show and tell it was. "Don't shoot me again, Trigger Finger."

Conrad lifted his hands in a sign of peace before lowering them, grinning with a face that said he couldn't wait to see what she was going to do next.

Veil lifted her hand in front of herself, palm towards them, fingers spread. She waved her hand to the right… and a translucent image of her hand remained in its place. A ghostly, apparition of her own hand. It moved, a second later, to catch up with her physical hand. Like an afterimage on an old VHS tape. Only her soul moved faster than any normal movement to catch up, the force of the separation building and popping it back into place. Like two things tied with an elastic bouncing back together. Or two magnets, maybe.

Veil moved her soul the other way, and the translucent image of herself waved from right to left - and her body snapped to catch back up with it.

The two of them were sitting there, staring at her with wide eyes. Gabriel's mouth was hanging open. But she wasn't done yet. That was only half the equation.

Veil reached across the table, and picked up Gabriel's mug of tea. "I"m going to just borrow this for a second." And with that, Veil disappeared.

Well, to them she did.

Richard calmly lifted his cup of coffee to his lips. This was nothing he hadn't seen before. Conrad and Gabriel, on the other hand - flew backwards from their chairs for the second time that day, not sure this time what exactly they should be prepared for, as she was now missing from their field of view.

To the three men at the table, she simply ceased to be sitting in the chair. But to her, she had stepped through a curtain. Through a barrier. Richard had asked her what it felt like, really, pulling her body into the spirit world. 'Like walking through Jello,' she had responded.

Straddling the world of the living and the dead like she did, every waking moment, meant that she always… saw both. Her soul walked the world of spirits and ghosts - walking alongside her living body. Joined, but now and forever separated.

The spirit world looked like ours - with one notable difference. Colors. Flowers and fabrics, things that are the brightest colors in the waking, living world were dull, desaturated, and looked like shadows of their physical selves. But energy… energy flowed through the spirit world like swirling clouds. Almost everything had a power to it, a sensation - people, animals, sometimes buildings and objects, as well.

'Aura' was too fruity a word for her, so she tried not to use it. But it was descriptive, nonetheless.

And here, she could see all the things that did not exist in the physical world at all. Ghosts, spirits, entities or other nameless, formless things. Not everything had a name. Or a consciousness, for that matter.

It gave her nightmares, early on - the creatures that she could see. Even the things that did not mean harm, were not exactly pleasant when they snuck up on you. But she became at peace with their comings and goings. It was just another way of being. Different, but not wrong. Sad, maybe - especially the ghosts of the living who could not move on, whose candles would fade and burn out in time. Broken shadows of their former selves.

She always saw both worlds at once. The swirling, beautiful and unearthly colors of the spirit world, with the muted, desaturated physical objects. And, the bright, 'normal' living world, with the spirits and other ghastly creatures laid on top like a transparency film.

When she was fully in one world or another, she could only see that realm. And for those moments, her vision would clear. But it came with a price. Here, in the spirit world, she could feel the cold draining the life from her body. Bit by bit. Ounce by ounce.

This was not a land of the living. What it was exactly, be it a land of the dead or simply of disembodied energies, could be debated for the end of time. What it certainly was not, was where a mortal body, with beating heart and pumping blood, belonged. And when she was here, she could feel her life being pulled out of her - almost by osmosis.

What would happen if she stayed here until she died? Kept her body in the spirit plane until her heart stopped beating? There was only one way of knowing, and she wasn't going to volunteer. Would she simply dissolve, and come back to life? Would she be trapped? Veil was not volunteering.

Standing up from the table, she stepped through it, like it wasn't there. Learning to ignore the physical world in this nether-realm of a plane took some getting used to. But as Gabriel had observed, she had over seventy years of practice. She walked to where Conrad and Gabriel had taken their post, now standing, looking around for her to reappear. She stood in between them, and looked down at Gabriel's mug of tea.

Veil waited, watching it… as the liquid froze. Veil could last here longer than most things. Most people. By benefit of what she had been made to become. And she had practice, she supposed. The hot tea didn't stand a chance.

As she watched it finish freezing solid, frost forming on the rim of the ceramic cup, she 'let go.'

It took focus, and energy, to keep her soul and body on the same side of the barrier between life and death. It was her 'normal' state to exist, straddling the line, half here, half there. As she let that muscle relax, she felt the living world rush back into focus. Her body returned to the mortal plane, and she was now standing in between the two priests.

Gabriel shrieked and nearly fell over. Conrad leapt a foot in the air, clutching his heart, and going for his gun. "Hey, you promised. No shooting."

Conrad flexed his fingers, fighting his reflexive response. Fighting the need to cap her in the chest again. Finally, the urge passed. "Well, fuckin' hell," Conrad said with a laugh through his nose. "You ain't kiddin.'"

"I… see." Gabriel finally concluded. Meaning it literally, and figuratively.

Veil let out a long breath, and watched as it turned to mist in the warm air of the cafe. She shivered again and felt the cold starting to fade. It wasn't nearly as bad as when she came back from the dead. But still, it took a toll.

Veil handed Gabriel back his tea.

Which was, at this point, a frozen brick of tea in a mug.

Gabriel took it tentatively, and tapped his finger on the surface. Solid. The meaning of the frozen liquid was clear to him, and he needed no more elaboration upon it. "You can… take objects with you?"

"Yeah. But it's not fun, as you can see. I go through a lot of phones."

Conrad laughed again and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. "I can imagine you do, Blue! Can you make ice cream that way?"

"You're a dick, aren't you?" She shot him a narrow glare. He only grinned broadly in response, waiting for an answer. Veil finally sighed and shook her head. "... Yes."

"Hah! I knew it!"

"Please excuse him," Gabriel said to her quietly, bemused. Veil only smiled back at him, revealing maybe a little too much that she enjoyed the banter with the Irishman.

"Can I assume, then, you would like our assistance?" Richard asked from the table, now standing up as well. "Or should we take our leave?"

"We will have to discuss this with our commanders," Gabriel answered, and reached into his pocket to produce his phone, tapping at the screen. "But I cannot imagine that they would not be interested in this… unique advantage. At the very least, you will have them unprepared to face someone such as you."

"Richard and I have to go get our gear," Veil pushed her hands into her pockets. She wasn't sure how she felt about this actually… happening.

A chime from Gabriel's phone. Whoever he texted had written back very quickly. They were waiting eagerly to hear how this meeting went, she realized… Which was not making her feel any better. "We will meet you at the barricade heading into the mountains, an hour before sundown. Does that suffice? There is a meeting between a few of the military groups who have arrived to contain the situation. It is then, that we will be leaving for the castle… one way or another."

* * *

The jeep they had rented wound up the roads into the mountains. The sun made the roads passable… but gruesome. Cars dotted the road, lying in ditches or in the center of the narrow street with doors thrown open. Blood, some dry - some still fresh within the past day, spattered against broken glass or against the pavement. Some were locals who were foolish enough to flee at night. Some were military vehicles. Red cross.

The military vehicles in particular caught her attention. Romanian police, Romanian military, fine. But… Ukraine? Bulgaria? Serbia? Russian?! Maybe this was more of an international incident than the news gave it credit. That meant that whatever they were walking into at the barricade… was a complicated, political issue.

Talking heads were one thing. Talking heads with guns were another. Fun.

Richard was driving, letting her stay on guard for any potential… issues. (The last time she had driven and they had come across a problem, she 'phased out' of the car while it was moving. Richard was, as you could imagine, less than entertained by that. So now he drove. All the time. Even if it was for a hot dog.)

A turn off the 'highway' (two lane, winding little road in the picturesque mountain range) and a few miles up another little 'unnamed road' as google maps called it - and they came across the barricade.

Military trucks with gun turrets mounted to the steel plated roofing was the first indicator. Men in full body armor with PA md. 86 assault rifles were another. She wasn't so good with the vehicles - but she knew her way around guns. She'd been up against enough of them. Cultists were usually the 'stabby' types… until they really got spooked.

"Is that an anti-aircraft gun?!" Veil said through a laugh. "Shit. We are so fucked, Richie."

Richard stopped the car as the men flagged them to do so. "Not too late. We can turn this around," he gave her the chance to abort. But they both knew there was no chance of that happening.

So, they got out of the car, their hands raised. "We're here with the Ordu-" he started in english, then switched to his (very bad) Romanian, and tried again.

"We know," one of them replied. In an accent that sounded far more 'Russian' than local. Oh boy. "Two americans, one old nerd and one with blue hair. Come on." They gestured for them to follow, and after grabbing their bags from their jeep, they followed them up past the dropped cement barriers and criss-crossed military vehicles.

"I- I am not an old nerd," Richard sputtered, angrily.

Veil laughed, and nudged him with her elbow, playfully pushing him. "Oh lighten up, old man."

"Says the hundred year old woman," Richard kept complaining. "You just don't get grey hair!"

"Dye it like I do," she teased back. "Nobody'll know, then. C'mon. Little 'Just For Men' action?"

"I think I look distinguished."

"Nobody looks distinguished and young. Take your pick, sweetheart," Veil said with another laugh, and shifted her bag on her back. They hadn't searched them for weapons - which meant, in a situation like this - they were already assuming they came armed.

The base was hastily set up - especially with so many different countries now vying for space. Trees had been quickly knocked down and chucked out of the way, or used to create the barricade she saw at the far edge of camp. Towers had been erected, and armored men with guns stood there, on watch. Even in the daylight, the spotlights were on, training the high-powered beams into the woods beyond.

Veil understood why now. There, just on the other side of the barricade… it was like the game Silent Hill. There was just a… black cloud. Like when a rainstorm only hits half of a street. One side is dry, the other soaked. Only instead of this weather, this was darkness. Night time. There was no business for the sun not to be shining there, and yet… it was like it just knew better than to try.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, seeing it and understanding for the first time, the magnitude of what they were going up against. A power that could just declare 'it will always be darkness here.' Well - too far to turn back now. And if Richard's journals of all the lone heroes that had come before, the Belmont clan or the Van Helsing's - the castle could be defeated. It'd yet to succeed, after all. So maybe it was all just for show!

Right.

Well, a girl could hope.

Passing one tent after another, lead by the Russian soldiers, they finally arrived at a tent with a very particular cross emblazoned on the flap. The Order. Judging by the size of the tent - it contained more people than just Gabriel and Conrad. Oooh goodie.

The soldier gestured for them to enter, and with a faint smile, met by a stoic, 'all business' response, they both walked past him and into the tent.

Several faces turned to look at them, and Richard and Veil both stopped, unsure exactly of what to do.

"Ah! Hello!" An older man stood up from where he sat at a table. His face was round - pinkish - and… friendly. Not what Veil was expecting. "You must be… Mister Richard Blanchard, And Miss Veil, yes?" He had an Italian accent, but seemed to be much better with his english than Gabriel.

Speaking of Gabriel, he and Conrad were sitting at another table, looking over a map. When Richard and she had come into the tent, they had stopped. Conrad, who had been sitting with his back to the entrance, turned, and flashed them both a grin. He had been using what looked like .50 caliber bullets as map markers.

Oh. His guns shot .50 cal. That's why he punched such a gigantic hole in her chest when he had shot her. Ahhah. Veil didn't even know you could really get handguns that shot ammo that size.

"I am Cardinal Leone," the older man said as he approached them, holding out his hand. Richard took it with a smile and shook it. "I am very pleased to meet you both. And you, my lady," he said, as he reached his hand out to her. Veil took it, shyly - not really sure what was happening. As he took her hand, he put his other one on top of hers. "I am saddened to hear your tale from my compatriots. But I am… proud to hear what you have sought to do with what many would consider a curse. You are welcome here. I understand your trepidation. Our order has not been a welcoming one. But we have long decided that against the darkness, any flame has a right to burn."

Veil wanted, with all her heart, to believe him. And even though she didn't trust him, not yet - she didn't want to see enemies where there weren't any. She met his kind smile with one of her own, and shyly tucked a strand of her blue hair behind her ear. "Thank you. I wasn't expecting that."

He released her hand, and walked towards the table in the center of the room, gesturing for them to follow. "Our ranks are not what they were. Our resources, while they are still greater more than any other group may still possess… We are not in the business of turning away allies. And by all accounts, you have already shown great forgiveness and great trust towards us." Leone shot a glance at Conrad. One that didn't go unnoticed.

"I said, I was bloody sorry!" he threw up his hands in frustration and turned back to to the table. Lifting a flask to his lips, he took a swig. But not before muttering, 'shoot one stupid girl and they don't shuddup.'

Veil laughed and caught it too late to stop it. Conrad made her smile. It was a sense of humor she shared, and when he shot a sidelong glance at her, she could see the grin he sported as he sipped from his flask. "It's fine," she said to the Cardinal, still smiling. "I don't like getting shot. But it's not the worst thing that's been done to me by far."

"I do not dare imagine," Leone replied. He gestured to a table that had some bottles of water, and other supplies on it, offering it to them. They both politely declined. "I have a favor to ask of you, Ms. Veil. I know it is too soon to be asking such things of you. You are here to battle the darkness in those mountains..."

"We came here to help," she said with a look to Richie, who nodded in agreement. "What can I do?"

A woman, who sat by the back of the tent, and had as yet been silent, stood up. She wasn't a nun, as she had expected. In fact, the symbol she had pinned to her coat was that of the Orthodox church, and a white veil covered her hair. Perhaps Lone hadn't been lying - maybe they were a little more open-minded these days.

The center table was dominated by another large map, and she began to point at is as she talked. "The castle is not the only structure to appear. Reconnaissance trips sent into the woods and up the road and trails are coming across… villages or other clumps of structures. Either abandoned entirely, or overrun with monsters and the undead. These aren't places that they've overrun - these are places that have no business being there at all." She pointed at circles on the maps. Labeled things like 'cemetery,' 'village,' 'grain mill,' 'cathedral.' "They're separate from the castle itself, but… we think they're very much related."

Veil nodded, following along. Richard spoke up. "That isn't unheard of. The texts that we have, say that the Castle could corrupt the land around it for a range of dozens of miles, if not more. It can appear anywhere.

"Yes," the woman confirmed. "Last night, the local military groups - a mix of Romanian and Ukrainian soldiers, took a prisoner from here." She pointed on the map to a circle labeled 'cemetery.' "It is the only known prisoner from any of the incursions we've had. Every encounter with the demons and monsters results in their disappearance. Either they dissolve, or escape. We wish to interview this prisoner. We need to know who, and what, it is. But the military organizations here - while they are accepting our manpower and our resources, are not willing to let us talk to this creature. Whatever it may be."

Veil nodded, understanding where this was going. "You want me to get into where the monster's being held, and then come back and tell you what it is. And maybe ask it questions?"

"Exactly," the Cardinal said with a smile, sitting down at the table with a small 'huff.' Clearly he suffered from either back pain or leg pain. The joys of getting old - ones she'd never have. "From what Father Gabriel has told us, you may be able to infiltrate the tent where they are holding the prisoner, and discern its greater nature."

"He means, 'kick it in the teeth a few times and ask it 'who's your daddy?'" Conrad said from the wall, grinning into his flask again. "Italians and their stupid ways of speakin'."

Veil held back a snicker, trying not to show how much she appreciated his candor. Can't let him get a big head. Gabriel rolled his eyes and sighed, leaning back in his chair. Clearly irritated with his off-the-cuff friend.

"In a manner," the Cardinal said with a shake of his head. "Are you able and willing to do this thing we ask?"

Veil thought about it, looked at Richard for confirmation, and then nodded. "Yeah. I can. I'm assuming the monster is incredibly well guarded. I'm going to need a distraction - one that'll empty the tent where it's being kept. I don't think I'll have a problem, but if I'm caught, for whatever reason - I'll meet you guys on the other side of the barricade."

"I'll handle the distraction," Gabriel said as he stood up from the table, straightening his coat out with a tug of the fabric at the bottom lip. "I am eager for action."

"Gabey boy, Gabey. Ready. Not eager. Eager sounds dirty." Conrad said with a hand over his eyes.

A blink of confusion from the chestnut-haired Italian. "It is profane? Eager is not a swear..."

"It sounds ah- nevermind." Conrad turned to look at her, and clearly felt like he was the only one in the tent intelligent enough to give her what he felt was the important information. "The monster's in the tent about a hundred feet up the hill from here. The big one, with a lot'a gunmen 'round it. Can't miss it. Come back 'ere, and tell us what you've found. They catch ya, we'll see you on the other side in two hours. If yer 'ready.'" He said that last part with a pointed direction at Gabriel.

"I am. Richie-" Veil turned to her friend.

"I'll stay here. I can be of help to them - in the planning, maybe. Research." Richard said with a faint smile. "I can't go up that hill with you, you know I can't. I'd be dead in seconds..."

Veil hugged him, and he returned the favor. "If I get caught - if I don't see you before we go up there."

"I'll see you when you come back," Richard responded, full of confidence. He wasn't fooling her. But the message was clear. He would not say goodbye. Under any circumstances. "I'll find a way to help you from here."

When they let go of the hug, it was then, that Cardinal Leone said the magic words. "You will have full access to our records if they are useful to you." And that was all that he had to say. Richard was already unpacking his laptop.

With a laugh and a shake of her head - she looked over at Gabriel. "Ready? Give me two minutes to get there."

Gabriel glanced down to Conrad, then back to her. "Yes. … Ready."

With that, Veil disappeared.

She pressed through into the other side once more - and she looked around the tent. The Cardinal - the Eastern Orthodox woman, the priests - all read as human. Gabriel glowed in a way that the others didn't - she wondered what tricks he had up his sleeves.

She walked through the table and through the fabric of the tent at the other side. The sky overhead was a beautiful swirl of colors - the hot and cold rising air giving it an otherworldly appearance. Everything else felt grey and sullen, compared to that. Even the woods seemed to have a faint shimmer to it. It was an ancient forest - and it had its own vibe in its own way.

Veil moved from tent to tent, walking through them, looking for the monster. Soldiers, officers, ammo. Boxes, crates, guns, soldiers. Food, sleeping guy, soldiers, more ammo. Finally, she came to the tent that Conrad had mentioned.

It was by far, the most heavily guarded tent in the camp. Four armed men stood at the entrance - and inside, she could see the vaguest pattern of five more. It was almost like seeing heat signatures through walls.

Stepping through the fabric of the tent - she took quick stock of the room. Five men, standing around, guns trained on… a man, on his knees, in the center of the room.

Not a monster. Not some squiggly, tentacle-armed goopy freak like she'd been expecting.

A man.

Or, well, - okay. Books by their covers and all that. He was… decidedly not human, judging by the feel of the energy around him. What he was, she didn't know. She hadn't ever seen anything like him. He was on his knees, his arms behind his back, zip-tied into a straight position at the elbows and wrists - and yanked up at a painful angle. The position was pitching his chest forward. The thick, industrial zip-ties that looked like they could tie a car to a tree - kept him lashed to the center post of the tent, which was based into a large, heavy, concrete block. They weren't letting him go anywhere.

He was wearing black pants, boots, and what looked like a muslin shirt you'd buy from a colonial reenactment supplier. It was unbleached - with laces that ran down the front in a v neck opening halfway down his chest. Fitted as an undershirt. This one in particular was stained crimson, several holes punched through it where he had been shot.

Shot at least a dozen times. And yet they still felt the need to tie him to a post - and guard him with nine dudes worth of guns. Nope, definitely not human.

A table nearby had strange items on it that must belong to the 'man' on his knees. A long sword in a sheath - a coat, another shirt, vest, other belts and a small satchel.

Walking further into the room, she crouched down here in the spirit world, looking at the 'man' on his knees. His head was slumped forward - seemingly unconscious. His long, blond hair was so pale it was almost white. It was only one shade darker than his skin, and fell around his face, obscuring it from view.

He looked like he must be quite tall - and his body was a lean muscle like a panther. Not bulky - but built for a fight.

Vampire, maybe…?

She hadn't ever met one before. It'd make sense - this'd be the situation to find one, at the foot of Dracula's castle.

Veil looked towards the entrance of the tent as she hard an explosion boom from outside. The sound echoed, and whatever it was, was close enough to blow the door of the tent open.

Languages she could barely tell the difference between were suddenly being shouted from one man to another. To her untrained ear, Ukrainian, Romanian and Russian all sounded similar when being screamed in a panic (albeit a military-trained panic.) All of it sounded like she was inside of a fishbowl. Like there was some kind of barrier between her, and the noise in question.

Three of the four men at the door ran off - and the fourth stuck his head inside, yelling something repeatedly in whatever-language-it-was. It clearly translated to 'come on, let's go!'

And with that, the five men with guns scrambled out of the room. Finally! She thought to herself as she phased back into the living world, and let out a breath of cold air. Shuddering, she rubbed her hand up and down her coat sleeve. The air out of her nose was still mist - the air she was breathing out was far colder than the air in the tent. But she was warming up fairly quickly. She hadn't gotten this much 'exercise' in a long time.

She walked up to his table of belongings, wondering if she find some information there. She reached out to pick up his sword, but stopped at a voice from behind her.

"You were not here before."

The voice was quiet. One that did not find the need to speak loudly in order to command attention. But yet, something about it made her hair stand on end.

With a slow crouch, she reached down and grabbed the handles of her two weapons, that were sheathed on the outside of each calf. The ends of the weapons stuck up past her knees, making them easy to reach.

She was careful, listening for any movement, as she stood back up. In each hand, she had a solid titanium and steel alloy baton in each hand. They were just over two feet long each - and each weighed about three pounds. Veil shifted them comfortably in her hands as she turned to face the voice.

The figure hadn't moved from where it knelt, pitched forward painfully - head slung forward, limp. But he was the only one else in the room. And it wasn't a ghost that spoke. She'd know.

"No… I wasn't," she finally responded, as he seemed content to stay as he was, and wait her out. He didn't respond, and she took a slow step towards him. Followed by another. She kept her guard high - he could move at any time. And if he was what she thought he might be - who knew how fast that actually was.

She reached out the end of the baton down towards his face, intending on tipping his chin up towards her. Her movements were slow - not wanting to make him think she was trying to hit him. Not yet anyway.

Veil hesitated for a moment - holding her breath. Letting him move first, if he wanted to. After all, she didn't really want him to look up. But she had a job to do. She touched the rod to his chin to lift it - and heard the instant and heavy snap of plastic as the zip ties that bound him were pulled apart like they were a paper child's toy.

She leapt backwards - and deflected a punch with one baton, and another with the other - moving quickly backwards to catch her footing as the creature attacked in a flurry of motion. She could barely catch sight of him as he levied kick and punch in her direction. Veil was focusing too hard on deflecting the impacts to see really who - or what - she was fighting.

But god damn it, he was strong. Veil had speed, but he was keeping up with her. And his hits were making her arms ache. Making the steel of her escrima sticks vibrate as it bounced off of him. Most men - one good smack, and she'd snap an arm or crack a collarbone. But even when he smashed his arm into her at full tilt, he seemed not to even flinch.

Reflexively, she saw an opening, and swung. Until then she had been on defensive only. She caught him, and cracked the creature flat across the face. His head snapped back and to the side, and she heard him growl. Blood dripped to the ground, with a light tap tap against the packed dirt.

Narrowed yellow eyes, veiled through blond hair, met hers with an anger at the blow.

"... You started it," she quipped, smiling nervously at the provoked creature in front of her.

Veil let out a 'ungh!' of pain, as she was slammed backwards into wooden crates. The edge of them dug painfully into her back. The creature had vanished from her view - and before she could realize that the asshole could teleport - something she had never seen anybody do - he had grabbed her by the wrists, and slammed her backwards into the crate, arms spread out at her sides. Her batons thunked to the ground as he squeezed her wrists hard enough that she was forced to let them go.

Shit. Yeah. He was tall. Long blond hair fell around his face - and his yellow eyes were as pale as everything else about him. No. They weren't yellow. They almost looked gold. His skin was like marble. He watched her with a stern expression that reminded her of a statue of an angel in a cathedral. Judgemental and somehow vaguely irritated and disappointed by everything he saw. An angel statue, indeed… And he was just as beautiful as one.

If it weren't for the fact that said stern, disappointed, angry glare was pointed at her, she'd probably comment about how goddamn gorgeous he was. But instead, she was pinned there, in surprise, not sure what to do for a moment.

He pulled in a slow breath, and finally spoke once more. "You came from the air. Be you witch, or demon…?" When he spoke, she saw the barest hints of fangs extending down past his line of teeth. Vampire. That settled it.

"Neither. I'm not that simple," she responded. "And what're you? A vampire?"

"I am not that simple," he parroted back to her with the barest twitch of a smirk. As he spoke, his fangs seemed to… retract. Maybe they were like the claws of a cat - only extended when he needed them?

He went to move - and she didn't want to know what he was going to do. She vanished, then - phasing through to the spirit plane. The vampire collapsed against the boxes, snarling - barely catching himself as she disappeared out from under him. She crouched, grabbed the batons from the ground - grasping them like a ghost would - and dashing out from under him, phased back into the living world.

Now she knew what to expect. Now she knew how fast he was. She whirled, knowing he'd have swung a blow at her before she even finished materializing.

His blade whizzed towards her head, and she blocked it with a baton - holding it with her hand raised, pointed back towards her shoulder - the blade would have taken her head off, if she hadn't stopped him. It made a vicious tang noise against the hardened metal.

He stood in front of her - blade outstretched - looking ever much like a fencer. In fact, one hand was folded neatly behind his back.

"You pass through the air like a phantasm, and yet you are… alive. I smell your blood. I hear your heart." He narrowed his eyes, as if glaring at her would give him all her secrets. He was incredulous. Instantly understanding that whatever she was, she should not be.

"There isn't a name for what I am. There's just one of me. Veil. Nice to meet you." She said with a grin. He was still pressing the blade against her baton - but she was holding her ground.

"Alucard," was his cold response.

Veil laughed. Hard. "You're fucking shitting me."

He blinked, confused - that was not the expected response. Veil kept laughing, and shook her head. "You're a lying sack of shit vampire."

"I-"

The vampire calling himself 'Alucard' didn't get anything else out of his mouth before she hit him like a freight train.

* * *

Whatever Adrian had expected from this new world - the woman who appeared before him, was not it. He had known many fearless, powerful women in his day. Sypha. Maria. Dozens more. Even his own mother. It was not her strength of character, and defiant dark-eyed glare that struck him as odd.

Indeed, not even her hair, the color of a sapphire at night, was terribly unusual in the castle of horrors he once called home.

It was rare that Adrian was ever caught off guard. And that was, precisely - what she had done to him. Appearing from thin air. A human, for all that his senses and training could detect. A fierce and trained fighter.

She must be a servant of his father's, no doubt. What new and untraceable kind of evil had they created, that walked the earth as a human, but could move like a ghost? Sent to kill him - to finish the deed the human soldiers had started, he was certain.

Dark eyes that shone with intelligence, with life and a playfulness, even in battle, that confounded him. Monsters of his father's making often shared the physically beautiful form that this girl did - but rarely had that manner of… levity about them. He had intended to restrain her - to demand information from her. To learn what his father intended. But she had vanished out from under him.

When he had told her his moniker, given to him ages ago by a long-dead people - she had laughed. Truly, and honestly laughed at him. As though he had said something so ridiculous… so out of the question, it must have been a jest. She accused him of lying.

What game was his father playing now?

He had barely a chance to consider the options - before she struck. And he was, once again, caught off guard by the woman calling herself 'Veil.'

Something left her body - an image of herself, translucent like a spirit - and it dashed through him with a speed that rivaled his own skill to even perceive, let alone match. Suddenly, her physical body hurtled at him with breakneck speed, and with an inertia that crashed against him with a force he had felt only from creatures many dozens of times her size.

Her steel baton crashed against his ribs and he felt his feet leave the ground.

* * *

Veil watched the vampire hurtle through the side of the tent - punching through it and soaring into the trees beyond. She heard a loud 'crunch - snap - crash!' as the vampire's trajectory was halted by the woods.

She winced in pain and grabbed her shoulder, snapping it back into place. "Fuck!" she swore as she felt the dislocated joint pop back to where it belonged. Oh, sure, she could use herself like a high-speed battering ram. But motherfucker it hurt. But, indestructible, undying, blah blah blah… Veil had a pretty damn good pain tolerance level at this point in her life. But every time she had to do that, it felt like a car accident. It was exhausting.

But she had a vampire to kill. She could whine about her dislocated shoulder later. So she jogged after him - and darted her soul from one tree stump to another, her body following quickly after - using it to travel faster as she pursued him.

Judging by the trail through the trees and shrubs, he had made it a pretty good distance. She was actually kind of impressed with herself! This was a new record for her. But, besides the path left by his impact… there was no sign of him. She started to walk, holding her batons - waiting… listening. Turning her head to sense him. With her ability to see the energy of living (and un-living, apparently) creatures - if he was hiding, she'd find him.

"Here, vampire vampire vampire…" she said into the trees, glad to be away from the soldiers. She wanted to sort this fight out - one on one. No more bullet holes. The 'landing strip' he had left behind had ended - but there was no sign of him. Just a large dent in a tree, wood splinters. Man, she was really hoping she'd find him impaled on a branch. "Where'd you go, ass clown?" she half-yelled.

She tapped her foot on the ground, looking around - confused. Where the fuck was he? Maybe he ran off. Maybe he - Veil sensed him a moment before he appeared, and she dashed her soul, and then quickly her body out of the way. His sword hit the tree near her, leaving a giant gash in its wake. He was now wearing the coat and clothing she had seen on the table in the tent.

He had enough time to go back and get his shit?! Veil narrowed her eyes. "You were fine. You let me walk out here without showing your face - to take enough time to get your fucking coat? Well, aren't you a practical little bloodsucker?"

"Here is a better place to… talk." The vampire whirled his blade through the air in front of him, circling her like a practiced fencer. "Here, we are away from human eyes who may take offense at you when you reveal your true self."

Veil had seventy years of learning to fight - seventy years of learning different styles and seeing it all. But she was used to facing mortal men. Mortal men with some fancy magic, maybe - but breakable, squishy, bleedy people. Not a vampire - with who-knows-how-many centuries of practice. She was nervous, to say the least.

But she kept her steel batons raised, ready. Kept him in her view as she matched his circling - not letting him flank her.

"I'm not a demon. I'm not a monster. I'm here to stop those things from causing any more damage."

"Now you lie," he said as he circled, watching her. His long coat was trimmed in gold and that burnt-yellow color that spoke of autumn and falling leaves. He made no noise as he walked. "If father has sent you here to end my life, do get on with it, and spare me the falsehoods."

"Again - keeping up the bullshit 'I'm Alucard' story? Why bother? I'm not buying it. What were you going to do? March in here, get the soldiers to drop their guard, and then slaughter them all?" Veil laughed at him, cynically. "Hate to tell you, Gorgeous - they don't remember the name. Only my book-loving friend and maybe a dozen others on this earth have any idea what that name used to mean. I bet you don't even have a wikipedia page."

The vampire paused his circling, then. Half of her words were nonsense to him, she was sure - but she didn't care. He watched her for a moment, stern face a scrutinizing one. "The histories are lost."

"Not lost. Worse than that - ignored. Like so many fairy tales. So your bullshit story? Not going to do you or any other freaks any good." Veil twirled her baton in one hand, and squared off towards him. "And if you think I'm going to let you make it back to the castle with a report of what you've seen down here? You're wrong."

Veil dashed at him again - sending her soul around him - and this time, he responded in time to block her. Barely. She knocked him back a step - and now, it was a game of catch-me-if-you-can between the two of them. He seemed to have some kind of similar stunt - disappearing from view and appearing a few steps away.

Her steel against his blade. She'd connect, dodge, dodge, run - dodge… Parry, block. Maybe one in ten of her hits were landing.

She was playing with the handicap, though. He was stronger. Maybe not as fast - but he looked like he could go on like this forever. He fought with an ease, a grace, that made it all the more gut-wrenching a fight for her.

Veil couldn't keep this up for hours liked it seemed he could. Not before her body gave out. Not before she was too tired, too cold, too exhausted. She had already had a long-ass day, with one resurrection, and several paths through the spirit world to drain her out.

Every blow she landed on him, had to count. At least every time her baton met skin, she felt like she was actually hurting him. Veil felt like she was actually chipping away at him. But all he needed to do, was hit her once - and that'd probably be it for her. Her body was still human, after all. Veil healed, and healed fast - but once she got too tired to keep it up, she'd be at his mercy. Unable to escape.

His swings were impossibly strong. One of his strikes of his blades against her batons sent her staggering with the impact - almost ripping her weapons from her hands. Twice she had to disappear entirely to keep from getting a blade run through her.

There was no telling how long the fight went on. He seemed untouched by time. At least some blood was at the corner of his mouth. He'd yet to land paydirt with punch or blade. She could only hope her hits were causing some kind of serious damage. For all her tough words, she had no idea if she could really beat him.

But she couldn't stop, she couldn't-

Damnit. Missed that parry, missed his -

His sharp rapier-esque blade pierced her neck like a needle. She almost didn't feel it, as he stood in front of her, blade in hand, fangs extended, hissing.

* * *

Adrian had not fought like that in many, many years. The creature before him - be she demon, or new manner of monster entirely, had put him to his paces. A blow from her batons had cracked and indeed, perhaps shattered a rib or two on his left side - and while they were already healing, they hurt badly. Skill and training alone kept him from betraying the pain she had been dealing him and revealing such weakness during the battle.

She slid to her knees, and collapsed to the ground at his feet, eyes wide - locked in death. Adrian did not lower his guard for a moment - but as he sensed the life flee her body, only then did he relax. He lifted his handkerchief, and cleaned her blood from his blade.

His body cried out for him to run his tongue along the blade instead - to taste the blood whose scent filled his nostrils. To sink his fangs into her soft skin. To let her warm essence heal him before her heart ceased to beat entirely. It would be so much faster, so much easier to drink her, to give himself sustenance.

No! He screamed at himself in his mind, and crumpled his handkerchief and shoved it back into his pocket. He would not succumb to temptations such as those. Not now, not ever again. Replacing his sword in his sheath, he knelt at her body. Adrian suppressed a grunt of pain as he did. Whatever this creature had been, she had fought with a skill and ferocity that matched many of his father's own elder vampires and generals.

But she fell by such mundane means. A simple stab with a sword would not defeat a demon or a monster of his father's doing. Indeed, she seemed to have been tiring, by the end of the fight. Becoming weaker, by what means he could not tell. What power she called upon that was draining, was unknown to him.

It was this, that made him turn her body onto her back, and look down at her curiously. She did not fade into dust like a vampire - nor did she burn into ash like a demon. Indeed, the blood that pooled by her neck where he had felled her, seemed… human.

He reached a hand down, and touched her face - and expected it to pass through her like the ghost she seemed to sometimes be.

Yet, his cool skin touched hers - and found it frigid under his touch. Like a body much longer dead than but the moments she had laid there. By what means, was she so… cold?

Adrian narrowed his eyes, and leaned his head in slightly to observe closer the wound at her neck. Was it… moving? Healing? Like that of a vampire? But she was not -

It was with no small amount of shock that he flew back from her as she gasped air into her lungs.

* * *

Twice in one day. Twice in one fucking day she had come back from there. From that place. From his voice.

And now, she had no time to even straighten herself out. Staggering, lead only by adrenaline, she scrambled to pick up her weapons, and stood - holding them aloft, ready to fight. Well, okay, trying to look like she was ready for a fight. And even there, she suspected she was failing miserably. Veil was shaking - absolutely jittering from cold, as the air that left her was a frozen mist on the air. The sun was beginning to set, now. She had to meet the priests to go up to the castle in an hour. Maybe she should just… play dead. But he'd seen her breathe, now - seen her come back from the dead.

Now her jig was up. If he got back to the castle with that knowledge - if he told them what she was capable of. The words that ran through her head were all four letter ones, strung together in a colorful stream that would have made a sailor blush.

But she just glared at him, hands shaking, barely standing. He didn't move. The blond vampire just stood across from her, hand on his blade, golden eyes wide in surprise.

"I'm going to stop… whatever monsters in that castle… want to wipe out the world." Veil was speaking by force of will alone. "Did you see that? I can't die. I can be beat, but I can't lose. You tell whatever fuck is running that place that - tell him, there isn't anything they can do to stop me. I can't let them do this. I'm going to… going to..."

Her world went dangerously tunnel vision, and she suddenly couldn't feel her hands. She felt herself starting to slip. "No.." she mumbled. But it was too late. She had pushed herself too far. Two times coming back from the dead, and a fight with a vampire… and her body had had enough.

Unconsciousness took her as the ground rushed up towards her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you everyone for the reviews! I'm going to try to get another one out this weekend, fingers crossed. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Veil woke up, and it took her a second to realize she did so with her back up against a tree. What the hell had just happened? Oh right, the fight. She passed out. _Shit._ She blinked, and lifted her head with a 'nnh' noise, as she tried to figure out where she was. It was the same place she had fought the vampire. She was sitting on dirt, leaves,and pine needles, resting against large maple tree. The sun hadn't finished setting - she hadn't been out long. Maybe a minute or two at most. It took her a split second to realize she wasn't alone.

The vampire was sitting across from her, on a fallen tree - just… watching her, with those golden eyes. Her two steel batons were at his feet on the ground. The stern look on his face almost screamed _come and get them if you want to try this again._

Veil gritted her teeth, and tensed for him to attack. Nothing happened. He was just… sitting there. She waited to see what he would do, to see what he'd say - but as the seconds ticked by, it was clear that he was waiting for _her._ Veil was tempted to get up, snatch her weapons away, and try to start the fight again. But the keyword was _try._ What good would that do? He'd already won. She was too tired and too cold right now to fight and expect any different kind of outcome. So instead, she pushed herself up to standing, taking her time, leaning against the tree for support.

The vampire stood as well, lifting her batons from the ground as he did. He walked towards her - and she moved to take a defensive stance, but didn't retreat. He simply held her weapons out to her - both in one hand. And _waited._

It was a long moment that lingered there, with him holding her batons outstretched. Her, unwilling to trust him and take them from his hand. But someone had to give. And he clearly was not going to be the one to break first.

Tentatively, she reached out and took the two steel batons from him - waiting for him to change his mind, and take her head off with a swing of a blade. But he did no such thing, and simply opened his palm as she received his offer, and lowered his hand back to his sides.

A long tense moment hung in space as they keenly watched each other - waiting for the other to strike. Waiting to see what the other would do. He was waiting to see if she would throw his silent offer of 'truce' in his face and try decking him with the steel rod. She was waiting to see if he'd now take the chance to rip her face off.

Why wasn't he attacking her, anyway? He could have torn her apart while she was out cold. He could have dragged her back to the castle, if he was working for Dracula. He could have done a _lot_ of things. But instead, he had propped her body up against a tree, and had sat there and waited for her to wake up. … Maybe he _wasn't_ full of shit. Maybe he _wasn't_ lying.

Could this _seriously_ be Alucard? _The_ Alucard? The one written about in the Belmont journals? Richard would be geeking out right now, blathering a list of questions a mile long at the stern vampire. He'd probably ask for an autograph. The mental image of Richard going fanboy all over the golden-eyed man in front of her made her snicker.

A thin eyebrow arched up in response, confused by her defensive stance, ready to attack him - but laughing to herself at a joke he was not aware of. "Are we intending to start again?" His voice was almost velvety in a weird way. But with an edge that almost gave it a foreboding quality. Foreboding, maybe - but not _quite_ sinister.

Veil debated the idea for a moment. The proverbial ball had been put in her court. With a reluctant, heavy sigh, and swearing at herself in her head for being an idiot - she slid the batons back into the sheaths on the outside of her calves. He'd won the fight, after all. He'd do it again, in a tenth of the time as the first fight, if she started it again.

"I'm not stupid," she muttered as she leaned back against the tree and relaxed her stance. More for her own good, than his. "You'll win a second time if I try it right now." One of his thin, blond eyebrow moved upwards in a slight arch. She cracked her back, and her shoulder, hearing them audibly pop. She hissed in pain and rubbed the offending joint. "So no. I don't think so. You also didn't attack me while I was out cold. That counts for something."

"Hm," came the simple response.

"Are you lying to me? Are you actually - _seriously_ \- Alucard…?" she asked, the words sounding ridiculous coming out of her mouth.

"I am he. Nor do I believe it to be so great a benefit that another would seek to wear such a mantle under false pretenses." His golden eyes were scrutinizing her, again - and she hated feeling under a lens. "You yourself, said the histories were forgotten."

"Well," Veil said with another small laugh. "If I had to get my ass handed to me in a fight, I'm glad it was by you. Makes me feel a _little_ less stupid." Veil tilted her head thoughtfully as something occurred to her. "What made you stop? What made you believe _me_?"

"Conviction to your cause, in the face of defeat. To accept that it is better to… 'die trying,' than to let the evil persist." His lips curled in a vaguely sarcastic smile. "Although, perhaps you are not troubled by such a concern."

Veil chewed on her blue painted lip. Two times today, she had to come back from the dead. And two times, it seemed like she'd have to explain it. She had done both things more today than she had done in the past ten years. "Yeah. About that. … I don't stay dead."

"So I see."

Veil wasn't in the habit of volunteering more information than was asked. It went down a pretty muddy road, pretty damn quickly if she did. So she did her best to change the subject. "I'm intending on going up that hill and doing my best to stop any more blood being spilt. There are two priests from the Order who are planning on doing the same - we have a rondevu scheduled in…" She fished her phone out of her pocket (which was one of those rugged nextel phones. She didn't take her iPhone into fights anymore - they didn't last twenty minutes.) "Half an hour."

She shoved it back into her pocket without reading the three text messages all from Richard. She'd text him back in when she didn't have _the_ Alucard standing in front of her, to let him know she was alright. "I'm not going to lie… we could use all the help we can get."

"Priests of the holy rank do not like to sully themselves with vile monsters such as I… But if they have agreed to travel with you, perhaps their views have changed."

"I'm not a _vile monster_ ," Veil retorted, not enjoying the insult. She moved to walk past him - not liking being stuck between him and the tree. She didn't like being scrutinized either, even less than being cornered. A hand snapped around her upper arm, and kept her from her goal of walking away from him. She turned to look at him, and narrowed her eyes - making it very clear that she was unhappy with his gesture.

He ignored her disapproval, and also did not release her arm from his grasp. It wasn't a painful one - but firm enough to keep his purpose clear. "Your body and soul are severed from each other, yet both remain intact. You are a _living_ soul, despite the repeated death of your body. You fight with the skill of someone many years past your age, your blood smells mortal - and yet you clearly are _not._ All this is impossible. And yet - here you stand. What manner of magic made you, is none that I have never seen nor heard of…"

Veil shook her head, and went to move again - but his hand around her upper arm pulled her back. She glared up at him - now angry that he was actively keeping her from walking away. She could 'phase out' and get away from him, if she weren't already trying to regain her stamina from the rest of the day. If she did it again, she'd probably pass out… again.

"If you seek my assistance in battling the castle and the creatures within - you will be straightforward with me. I will not fight beside someone whose nature is unclear to me."

"Listen, Skippy - you have until the count of three to let go of my arm," she threatened. It's not like she could fight him again and win, but that wouldn't stop her from _trying_ \- especially when she was being manhandled. "One…"

He released her arm without any more fuss, as he was apparently satisfied that his point had been made. He simply stood, stern-faced, and waited to see if her pride and discomfort would outweigh the obvious benefit his help would bring.

Veil ran both of her hands through her long blue hair and let out another disgruntled sigh. "A cult that served the fallen archangel Asmodeus, made me what I am. How exactly they made me, I don't know. I wasn't really awake during the ritual." That last part was a lie - but a practiced one. And besides - whatever, he didn't need to know the details. "When I woke up, I was the way I am now. I killed as many of them as I could before I fled. I want no part in being anybody's slave. And I stop them, and and anyone like them at every chance I get. Which is why I'm here. Good enough for you?"

It was like talking to a statue. She'd never met a vampire before. Or half vampire, or whatever he was - the journals left behind by the Belmont clan weren't exactly specific on the details. The way he could stand.. perfectly still… was a little unnerving. And he felt as judgemental as the statues of angels he resembled. But, finally, he seemed to acquiesce. "For now."

He turned, then - 'done' with the conversation, and headed off into the woods towards the road.

"Great Good talk." Veil followed after him. God, she was tired. Hopefully they'd march for a while and then take a nap, or something. She pulled her coat around herself. Even though the night was warm, she obviously felt freezing.

"Should I call you Alucard? Or what?"

"You may call me Adrian."

Veil walked after him in silence for a moment. He made no noise as he walked - and she did. It made her feel like a lumbering beast, cracking the occasional stick beneath her feet. She wondered if he expected to return the favor - give him her 'real' name.

There wasn't a 'real' name to give him, not as far as she was concerned. The only people who had ever called her anything _other_ than Veil - weren't worth their weight in rat shit, in her opinion. She didn't even want him to know it was a possibility to call her anything other than what she chose to call herself. So she remained silent.

Well, on that subject at least. "So you can walk in daylight? That's cool. Is it just you, or all vampires?"

"All vampires. We are weaker in the day, nothing more." And nothing else. No explanation of why, or where the legend came from… great. Adrian was not a chatty man, it seemed. They walked in silence for some time before she spoke up. "Did I at least hurt you a _little_ in the fight _?_ "

"... Perhaps."

Veil laughed at that, grinning at the back of his head. She couldn't tell if he was trying to be humorous in his own, clearly barely-there way - or if he honestly thought that didn't give away the fact she had at least put a dent or two in him.

Either way, she'd take that.

* * *

'A mystery that deepened,' was a phrase that summed her up nicely. The woman - Veil, as she wished to be called - was not telling him the whole story. And to be truthful, Adrian could not blame her. A darkness had killed the playful shine in her eyes the moment she mentioned those who made her. It was a painful topic of conversation, and he felt no more need to pry. He learned what he needed to know. Indeed he had done so more from her reactions than from her words.

She did not seek to be this way. This was not her _choice_ to straddle the barrier between life and death _._ And now, she sought to carry out what she believed to be her duty. A duty to right the wrongs caused by those that gave her such a burden.

Adrian could find no fault in that, lest he accuse a mirror.

Veil had taken out a strange contraption from her pocket again - some little technological device he was unfamiliar with. She was pushing buttons on it quickly, with a somewhat alarming dexterity. Then, a pause. A few seconds later, and it would beep, and she would begin typing again. Much like a morse code machine, he observed. It must be some manner of communication.

"Poor Richie," he heard her say quietly through a laugh. Even though he did not acknowledge that she had spoken, she still felt the need to explain. "Richard's my good friend. We've done a lot of 'cult hunting' together. He's a nerd." She paused as she realized he had no idea what she meant. "A bookworm. A scholar. I told him who I'd found, and he's losing his _mind-"_ she said with another laugh. "He's insanely jealous."

Adrian assumed that this 'Richard' was likely unwieldy in a fight. He was glad that he would not need to worry about a mortal unable to defend themselves. Adrian preferred to fight alone, although it was not unheard of for him to join ranks with like-minded hunters.

They reached the edge where the forest met the road. The path up the mountain quickly became shrouded in darkness. The line of the castle's corruption. They had emerged from the forest at a spot that was well out of sight of the military barricade.

Adrian could sense the two men - smell their blood upon the air, before he saw them. They had hidden themselves behind a pair of trees - wisely staying off the road. As he and Veil had exited the woods, they stepped out.

One of the priests with reddish hair had his hands on the grips of two guns, holstered one at each side. He had not drawn them yet - but he was strongly considering it. The other seemed unarmed - but Adrian knew better than to believe such a thing. Those who did not carry weapons of a physical nature, often carried ones of a magical one instead.

"Who's this?" the redheaded priest asked with a thick Irish accent, refusing to take his eyes off of Adrian. The vampire kept himself similarly prepared. It would not be the first time he had come to blows with of the holy order.

"Uh. This is the guy who the military took as a prisoner last night. This is Adrian Tepes… This is Alucard."

The other priest who carried no weapons stopped walking. "You must certainly be joking," he said with his own accent, Italian this time.

"I know, it's nuts. I called bullshit on him already, and… uh, well, we punched it out, and I believe him now." Veil walked into the center of the street towards them. By the way she moved, they were not old friends. These were not people she knew well. Associates by a common need.

"I missed a fight?!" The Irishman sounded incredibly disappointed.

"I'm sure there'll be more," she replied with a smirk, and then looked back at him. "Adrian, this is Gabriel, and Conrad." At the mention of their names, the two priests nodded once in turn.

The Italian was still keenly looking at Adrian. "I dislike that neither have time nor opportunity to question this. We have no reason to trust him, but on your word. And to be blut," he trailed off.

"We barely have any reason to trust you, Blue," the Irishman finished.

"I know, I know…" She shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know how to fix that. We all don't trust anyone else, but we don't have a choice if we're going to stand a chance against _that._ " She pointed up the hill at the looming darkness that had no business being there. "Can't we all just promise not to stab anybody while we're sleeping and move on?"

"Works for me," the Irishman removed his hands from his guns, and started walking up the road. He was clearly impatient and had little desire to be involved in 'petty issues.' He unshouldered a pack from one arm as he walked past Veil, and tossed it to her. She caught it, slung it over her own back, and followed after him.

She had made it a handful of steps before looking back at him, and smiled mischievously back at him. Her eyes shone with the levity and playfulness that seemed to come to her so readily. "You've already stabbed me once anyway. Isn't that right?"

Adrian had to smile, faintly, at the ease in which she shrugged off what had happened, and joked about it so lightly. He began to walk after them. He was committed to see the castle fall once more - and he would be a fool to turn away assistance.

"Well! Now we have to let Gabe kill you, to complete the set, huh?" Conrad said with a grin in their direction, him having turned to walk backwards as he spoke for the moment. "Shot once, stabbed once - how about a fireball?"

"No. No fire," Veil turned back forward, and although she was joining in the facetious conversation, he could tell she was also not entirely joking. "Fire is second worst, beaten out only by drowning."

"Drowning? Why drowning?" Irishman asked, curiously. "Doesn't seem terrible, out of all the options."

"For most people, sure. But think about it. The water doesn't just _go away._ I just _keep drowning_." Veil shuddered dramatically.

"Oh.. Oh God," Conrad made a face, and blanched as he tried to picture it. "That's a livin' nightmare, huh?"

"You have _no_ idea."

"No drowning. Got it." And from there, the conversation trailed thankfully into silence, as the four of them made their way up the road and into the darkness that had been painted on the world like the work of a landscape artist.

* * *

They had walked for hours in silence. Veil was burning with questions to pester Adrian with - questions about his past, his family - the Belmonts. What it must be like. Was he a full vampire? Half vampire? How did that really _work_ exactly? But she kept her mouth shut. First, he didn't seem like the 'small talk' type. Second, if she asked _him_ questions, that meant he could ask _her_ questions.

They had walked out of the 'normal' darkness of the night into this weird… reddish-grey, 'wrong' darkness. The castle's corruption even seemed to be changing the trees and animals. Everything looked like a darker, twisted version of its normal self. No birds or animals could be heard in the trees. In fact, nothing except their footsteps on the pavement. The sky had a haze at the edges, revealing only hints of the stars beyond.

They crossed more wrecked vehicles on the road. One looked like it had been thrown - _through_ several dozen trees by a creature of some enormous size.

Another mile up the road, and it ceased to be pavement. Now it was dirt and gravel. She wondered if that was because of the castle's corruption, or just because the road turned to gravel anyway? It was hard to tell. This part of the country probably looked remarkably similar and unchanged over several hundreds of years.

The four of them pulled up to a slow halt as the road finally entered into a town. Really, it was more of a village. A collection of four or five houses, centered around a well. The houses were rickety and old, bent and unpainted. They were built by people without the means or intention of making them last. The thatched roofs looked uncared for, and punched in by the weather. No one had been up there to repair them in some time. This was not a village of modern - or even _nearly_ modern construction. It looked like a window into the past. And if she hadn't known better - abandoned.

The full moon cast the village in a sickening red light. The line of the forest beyond was a black cutout against the faintly glowing sky. And in the distance, the outline of the castle. Black jagged fingernails against a red sky.

But they had a more immediate concern.

The village was littered with corpses. Torn to shreds or lying where they were tossed and discarded like children's toys. Smears of blood against the walls were dried and it was hard to tell how old the marks were. Torches burned in sconces on the walls or on posts in the roadways between the homes. But while the torches burned as if they were recently lit - the bodies were old and decayed, dried and desiccated. They had been dead a _very_ long time.

That said… they might be dead… but they were moving.

Veil couldn't help but laugh, and pulled her two iron rods out of their sheaths, and twirled them, stretching her wrists. "Zombies. Honest-to-God motherfucking _zombies._ " Veil looked to Adrian with a grin. "While I'm thinking about it - are werewolves real?"

"... Yes."

"This is _awesome._ " she said, her grin still broad as she looked at the zombies shambling about in front of them. "We get to kill _zombies._ "

Adrian looked down at her with a raised eyebrow and a bemused twist of his lips. He then gestured a hand towards them, palm up. As if he were a gentleman at court, inviting a courtier to pass through a door before him. "Ladies first."

She didn't need to hear it twice. With a laugh - she dashed her soul at one of the zombies and let her body follow suit - using the inertia to wind up for a swing. She hit the head of a zombie with such force that it bent backwards a hundred and eighty degrees at the neck. It snapped back like the head of a toy with a sickening _crunch_ of bone, as the bone crumbled under the blow. It slumped lifelessly to the ground, its thin knees snapping as it crumbled to the ground as a pile of dust, detriment and bits of bone.

The other corpses around her all swiveled to look at her and began to lurch in her direction, arms outstretched, ready to kill - and she couldn't keep the grin off her face. This was going to be _fun._ She took on several of them without having to use her power to dodge or to take swings at them. They crumbled easily under the swing of a steel rod.

They were faster moving than the zombies of an old Romero film, but not quite the pop culture 'running zombies' either. A dash at another zombie - and she popped its head clean off with the impact, sending it rolling up the street, coming to a stop a few feet in front of the three men.

The three of them watched it cease its approach, winding up with one cheek down on the road, decayed empty sockets sightlessly staring ahead and its jaw, now shattered from the blow, hanging off one part of its face by a thin stretch of skin.

"You boys going to do anything useful or just stand around there and watch? You're really going to let me have-" she ducked under the arm of one of the zombies and jammed her steel rod _through_ the brittle skull and out the other side. "-all the fun?" She pulled the rod out of the head of the zombie, and looked at the steel - still decorated with a few pieces of rotting flesh. "Eeeewuh." She flicked it, sending the bits of skin to the ground. "Ew, ew, ew."

The three stepped forward to help clear out the rest of the town. Gabriel's powers seemed to be that of the elements. Roots grew from the ground to crush the ribcage of a few of them. Then, he froze a zombie with a gesture and a rush of cold air - another burst into flame. (Although fire seemed to quickly be a bad idea, as it set a nearby overturned cart on fire.) Conrad was taking his time, picking them off, one gunshot at a time.

Meanwhile, Adrian looked like a trained dancer. Veil stopped to watch, in awe, as the man elegantly moved through the forray, his long, thin blade whirling around him and rendering everything it touched to dust. Nothing seemed to slow him down - and certainly nothing touched him.

He might as well have been breathing air or walking across a room, so simple and easy he made it look. It was so natural to him. These creatures were not worth his time - this was a walk to get the morning paper from the front lawn, not a fight with unholy monsters. When she had been fighting him, she had been too busy trying not to lose and get stabbed, to really watch him. And now that she had the chance, she couldn't really look away.

The fight was over quickly - the animated corpses now lying as piles of dust and pieces of bone strewn about. He sheathed his sword with a quick and simple gesture. As their eyes met - he raised an eyebrow at her once again, as if to ask what she was staring at. Veil realized she must have been watching him, agog, and she coughed, and shook her head. "Nice moves, Twinkletoes," she quipped sarcastically in hopes of covering her fascination as she slipped her weapons back into their sheaths.

"Tell me, Alucard…" Gabriel began, the fire that had appeared between his fingers snuffing out with a small _woosh._ "You fight like one of them. You _move_ like one of them."

"I was trained by them," Adrian replied, darkly. He turned to face the priest, his face stern, assuming the stance of a man accustomed to verbal and physical confrontations over 'his nature.'

"That is not what I mean. Are you _vampire_? I must know. The histories were not clear," Gabriel was cautious - ready.

"He's got fangs," Conrad pointed out. "What're they for, if not to use them?"

"I seek to stop the evil, same as you." Adrian's hand went to the hilt of his sword. But he did not draw it. "It does not matter."

"It matters if you decide you're up for a snack," Conrad hadn't replaced his guns into his holsters. Lowered, but at the ready. It was a standoff now, between Adrian and the priests. A cold war.

"You think me so base? I have not drank the blood of a human in hundreds of years. And never have I done so, from one who is unwilling," Adrian scoffed, not realizing he was walking into a trap.

"Hah! So you _do_ drink blood!" Conrad raised his guns to point them at the vampire. "That settles it."

"Put your goddamn guns down, Darby O'Gill," Veil snapped and stepped forward, into the line of the bullets. "He's on our side."

"He's a vampire." Conrad pointed out again. "And these bullets'll go straight through you, Blue - so don't think you'll stop me by getting in the way."

"How is he any different than me?! I'm a freak, trying to fight against evil. He's part vampire, part human. I'm part living, and part dead! And you're alright with me, but not him?!"

"We do not know in what ratio he is vampire or human. And most importantly, the difference is that you do not _feed off the living,_ " Gabriel reminded her.

"He doesn't either! He said so - hasn't in hundreds of years. Probably not since he told his dad to fuck off."

"He could be lying."

Veil threw her hands up in frustration. "We could all be lying! We've been through that. You could be lying to me, I could be lying to you, he could be lying to us. We have to just take each other at our word for once! We could stand here and play pokerface for _weeks_ while that thing just kills more and more people. We've agreed to work together. What _more_ do you want?!" Veil stepped closer to Conrad, closer to the two guns he held aloft. It was true, the bullets would go straight through her like air - but she was making a point, goddamnit. "He's going to give us the best damn chance we have of stopping this thing from unleashing hell on earth."

Conrad wavered, but didn't lower his gun. Veil kept ranting. "If I have to pick which set of you assholes I'm going with, I'm going with _him-_ " she pointed at Adrian without turning. "Why? Because he's the only one of us _who's actually fucking done it before!"_

Conrad's jaw was twitching, and Gabriel now stood beside his brother in arms. Gabriel reached out a hand and put it on Conrad's arm, and Conrad lowered his weapons. "You speak… sense, if not sensibly," Gabriel said, uncomfortably. "Although I am not happy about this."

"None of us are," Veil pointed out as she turned to walk. "Now let's get out of here before _I'm_ the one that loses control - over the urge to smack one of you."

* * *

Several more hours of walking, and they had to stop and rest. Adrian could have kept plodding along, but his human companions needed to sit for a time. Honestly, he didn't mind. They found a small clearing close to the road, but far enough out of sight of any marauding creatures using the roads for their own needs.

They didn't dare light a fire. And they would not be here for more than an hour's time.

Gabriel sat upon a fallen log, and Conrad had sat down on the ground, his back against a rock. Veil was lying on the ground near the other edge of the clearing, her coat balled up under her head. She was looking up at the stars faintly visible through the reddish haze, but her eyes kept drifting shut. Her dark blue hair was pooled around her head, and looked nearly black in the reddish light of the sky. Only from time to time, when she moved her head, would it catch the light and reveal its true color.

Adrian, meanwhile, had taken his post by one of the trees, leaning against it, searching the darkness with a sight that the humans did not share. His vision in the darkness was far sharper, far brighter than they could ever hope to achieve.

Adrian could not help but glance back at the young woman lying on the ground. "You did not need to defend me," he said, his voice quiet enough for her to hear, but not the two men across the way. His words were not for them.

"I know. But your version of 'defending yourself' comes with less words, more stabbing." She turned her head to look up at him, smiling again with her jesting of him. She was quick to laugh, and even quicker to smile. Such natural mirth was foreign to him, and he found himself almost jealous of it.

It was that brief moment of envy that lead him to change his intention in the conversation. "You called us one and the same. You are mistaken. I fear you do not know of what you speak." Adrian looked off into the darkness, the cold feeling that came with thoughts of the nature of his existence settling upon him, reminding him of the truth of his world. They were not the same - if they were, she would not look up on the world so gleefully.

He had seen her with the zombies - laughing and enjoying the fight. It came naturally to her, with or without her gifts that made her far more formidable than a normal mortal. It looked as though she was having _fun._ No one in this world was akin to he - and if they were, they would not view the world through such a lens as Veil possessed.

"Maybe I don't. But maybe I do."

He turned his head to look at her then - her voice had lost its lustre. Its playful, sarcastic shine. It was the darkness that he had seen dull her eyes when she had spoke of her past. She had turned her attention back to the stars above, not looking at him. He suspected she was not focused upon the stars truly, either - but a darker thing inside her own mind. Her face had fallen into an expression that he was far more familiar with - a morose kind of suffering.

There was more to her story - he could feel its presence on the edges of the conversation. It was weighing on her like a tangible force. What did she mean by her words? He was at the disadvantage - she knew his tale, but he did not know hers. Not fully - only the barest outline she wished to furnish him. The pained expression on her face, coupled with the darkness that had overtaken her, lead him to believe that there might be something about his own life, indeed, that she may share. "I-"

"Don't." she cut him off, shutting her eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper, as he begged him not to continue. "Just don't. Please."

He could demand answers. He could press the subject, and find a means of extracting her tale from her. Threaten to leave this haphazard 'party' and go his own way, if she did not tell him.

But it would pain her greatly - and he found he suddenly did not enjoy this crestfallen version of her. And he was to blame for it. Adrian was not one to care about the past of others - not one to wish to hear their stories. He reminded himself of that as he urged himself not to be so curious about hers.

"Thank you for what you did," he finally said after the long pause - which was why he had sought out the conversation in the first place. An expression of gratitude, not to start a tense discussion about how her history may-or-may-not be parallel with his. Adrian was not skilled in the art of conversation, and often times he found it running away from him like a cart without a horse down a steep hill. It was a large part of the reason he chose to largely abstain from the hobby.

"You're welcome," she said with a smile, her eyes still shut. "Besides, I couldn't let Conrad ruin your lovely coat." And so quickly, her levity returned, the strife so easily forgotten.

* * *

"Well, _that's_ not fucking creepy or anything," Veil grumbled as they stood at the bottom of a hill. A hill that lead up to a slowly spinning windmill.

Two more hours of walking through the mountainous landscape, and they had come upon this structure, far removed from anything else.

The windmill was a decrepit thing - the fabric of the sails long since hanging in tattered, ripped strings from the frame. As it slowly rotated, dutifully going about its job with no mind to the fact that it had no real means of doing so - the fabric twisted, and blew in the wind. It looked like a skeleton of its former self, worn and broken.

It was a dark outline against the reddish-grey, feverish haze of the sky. The sound of wood straining, creaking on itself as the slow rotation of the blades went about its business was the only sound breaking the silence.

It stood in the center of a field on a hill - the grass was long, and uncut. It blew in the breeze like waves - flattening and straightening, reflecting the glint of the sky overhead. You never really get a chance to see the wind and how it moves - to really take a moment to think about it. Watching the long grass flatten in waves like the ocean, it gave her that opportunity for a moment. It reached up past her thighs, and had not seen any care in many decades. The moment was gone as soon as it came, and it was time to move on. As they walked through it, they found themselves with Adrian leading - then Gabriel, then her, then Conrad.

"Bringing up the rear, or just enjoying watching it?" she shot a wink at the Irishman behind her.

He hooted in laughter, and grinned back lopsidedly at her. "Cheeky! Finding humor in a place like this?"

"Richard has a general theory about the universe. There are three universal laws: death, taxes, and Veil'll make her own amusement."

"Eh, it's already bunk. You don't die."

"Best two out of three, then."

"Quiet," came Adrian's voice from the front. And that was enough to set all of them on edge and kill their banter like a lightswitch.

They were approaching the windmill. When the vampire drew his sword, the rest of them drew their own weapons. He approached the door to the mill, standing to one side of it. He pushed it open with a hand… and nothing happened.

The door swung inward, creaking as it moved. The corner dug into the ground somewhere past the halfway mark, and it stopped opening. The group of them took a moment for anything to happen - then made their way inside the structure one by one.

It was incredibly dark inside. The grinding of wood and stone filled the room. It was a repetitive noise of a structure that had made the same motion for a hundred years. A distinctive thumping and grind that it would continue to make for the next hundred, if left to its own devices.

Conrad and Gabriel both produced flashlights, flicking them on to scan the room. Veil could see the energy of the place - see any lurking figures if there were any. It was like seeing a heatscope of a building. Normally, it was overlaid with her 'normal' vision of the world, and she had learned to tune it out largely. But here in the darkness, it took front and center focus.

Adrian apparently needed no light to see either, she assumed for very different reasons. He was walking carefully into the center of the windmill - his steps making no noise on the packed dirt floor. They were all at the ready, each of them preparing for an ambush from any side. But none of it did them any good.

The lights in the windmill burst into flame. A dozen glass lanterns hung on hand-hewn and rough-sawn wood beams, spirling up the center of the windmill up to the top. The flames illuminated the space - casting stark and flickering shadows against the walls of the tall, abandoned structure.

It was not the illumination that was the problem - it was who _caused_ it.

A figure floated in the air over them - tattered robes hanging off thin shoulders, a hood pulled over a skeletal head. A wicked, elaborate scythe was in his hands, made of bone. The scythe was etched and detailed, crafted a long time ago by forces whose names were lost to time.

It cackled in laughter. "The prodigal child returns!"

"Death," Adrian 'greeted' the spectre. He had taken a defensive stance the moment the lights had flickered on, his long, elegant sword at the ready.

"How low you have sunk, associating yourself with _vermin_ such as this… Tell me, do you still travel upon your foolish, childish crusade? Do you still seek to forsake all that you are? All that you are _meant_ to be?!" The robes of the skeletal monster were blowing in a wind that was not felt in the relatively still air of the windmill. One of his hands - bleached bone that had no business being attached to the rest of his skeletal form, with no tendons to keep them in place, gestured idly at his side as he spoke. The other kept grasp of the handle of the elaborate blade.

"I have had enough of your _pointless_ diatribe," Adrian readied himself for a fight.

"I was not speaking to _you,_ whelp," Death said with a derogatory huff. "Do not waste my time."

"What?!"

Veil had locked solid - her hands gripping her weapons tight enough to turn her knuckles white. She was staring at the creature wide-eyed. Shock, horror, and _anger_ ripping through her all at once. It was the anger that had kept her from speaking this entire time. And to be honest, she was hoping the creature _had_ been talking to Adrian.

But now, Adrian stepped to the side to look at her - without turning his back on Death. He saw the dire look on her face. One that spoke of far more history than there had any business being. Veil felt her heart pound in her chest as adrenaline rushed her system.

Luckily the floating creature didn't have a chance to elaborate on his words. Conrad and Gabriel were tired of the whole exchange - and opened fire. Figuratively, and literally.

The fight was a mad blur of action. Death had begun summoning blades from thin air - small, whirling things that kareened through the air at their intended target. It was a full time job just keeping them deflected.

In bad news for Conrad - his bullets went straight through Death like he wasn't even there. There was no flesh to damage. He managed to land a shot through Death's forehead - exploding a hole through the center and rocking its head backwards. The action paused as they waited to see if that did it - but Death only tilted his head forward again, and laughed. The bone of his head seemed to mend itself like a video of a mirror shattering, played in reverse.

Veil herself managed to get a few good hits - but Death could disappear and reappear at a whim and in the blink of an eye. But, so could she. He caught her once, with the handle of his scythe, and she felt the long handle impact her ribs and send her flying - crashing into a wood beam of the mill. She fell to the ground and couldn't breathe, having the wind knocked out of her. Veil put her hand to her ribs, and tried to fill her lungs again with air. Finally, it worked and she coughed - and heard another crash and the massive sound of wood splintering and caving in. . She looked up to see what the source of the noise had been.

Gabriel had been thrown against, and more importantly - _through_ \- a stack of barrels against one wall. The barrels had caved in on him and he was now out of sight, buried under the mass of wood.

"Enough of this!" Death howled. He motioned his hands, and she felt the ground around her feet… tighten, for lack of a better word. Power surged through the space, and she saw the room flicker and dance with the power of dark magic. It shimmered in the version of her vision that saw the spirit world - although it was barely visible in the physical one.

The floor of the mill was now aglow with strange symbols. He had triggered a spell - something laid here before they arrived. A trap. The ceremonial magic writing on the floor was familiar to her. She knew the words written on the floor, and could decipher their cryptic meanings. Veil had grown up raised by cultists, after all. And when you're in the business of stopping them, you learn.

Her limbs felt locked solid - and judging by everyone else - theirs had as well. She couldn't move. If she forced herself to relax - forced herself not to make an aggressive movement, she could… but barely. It was spell meant to pacify. Not restrict. She stood up from the ground, trying to control her urge to fight. Every time she tensed, the spell would react and her body would freeze. Only trying to relax - trying to go 'zen' allowed her to move again.

"Believe it or not, I did not come here to kill you." Death spoke, idly twirling the scythe in his hand. To her, specifically. "You and I both know how much of an utterly _pointless_ waste of time that would be. I only came to say… hello, after all this time. And how _thrilled_ I am you have come here!"

"Bullshit," Veil growled.

Adrian and Conrad didn't know what kind of magic they were up against - and both of them stood, locked still like statues.

"You don't know me," she said with a derisive laugh. "You're full of shit. You aren't Azrael. You're just some half-rate dimestore skeleton who learned how to fly," she snarled her insult him. "Thought you could be some hot shit if you carried a scythe and called yourself 'Death.' You're not fooling me."

Death cackled again, laughing his pitched, sharp laugh. "Such fire will serve you well. Oh, you _are such a delight!"_ he cried as he lowered himself from the height he had been floating at, taking a position ten feet in front of her. "You know as well as I - that I am but one manifestation of the infinitely faceted being that must encompass the whole of _death._ One of us can not be _everywhere_ at once. We are death, we must be all things, to all people. I am the reaper. You knew the archangel. We are one and the same! Faces of the same gem."

"Shut up and stop lying," she shook her head, but that didn't stop her fear and ner nerves from flipping over in her stomach.

"If I am _not_ Death, answer me this. How is it that I know your darkest secrets? If I am just a common spectre, as you claim - how, precisely," he began, leadingly, enjoying his position of power in the conversation. "-would I know your name?"

"Don't," she warned him. "Don't you _fucking_ _dare._ "

"Ah!" He laughed again, cackling. "Now you believe me!" Death floated closer to her. "Just a moment ago, you said there was no means by which I could know you. Now you do not wish to back your claim! I have called your bluff, as it were. But no matter - you deserve proof that we are one in the same, do you not?"

"Don't-" she threatened again.

"It is _so wonderful_ to see you _in the flesh_ once more, Selina Nephthys Solomon," he said her 'name' with great pride and glee. Enjoying _far_ too much that he was ruining her night. "Or have you forgotten it?"

Veil went to strike him - and felt herself lock up - felt herself freeze in mid-motion, mid-strike. He cackled again in laughter, loving the sight of her losing control. He floated up to her, and put a single bony finger under her chin, knowing by her snarl and her glare how badly she wanted to smash his head apart. It made him only that more amused. "My dear, dear sweet girl… If you're here, I'm am certain ' _he'_ is not far behind you. What a wonderful _family_ reunion, we'll be certain to have! Until then!"

Death floated up, then, into the rafters of the windmill, and in a swirl of black fabric and a laugh that faded into darkness. As he disappeared, his spell did as well. Veil, Adrian and Conrad completed their motions like someone had hit play on a paused tape recorder. She staggered to catch herself.

Rage - unfulfilled anger poured through her like molten metal.

Instead of sheathing her weapons, she turned her rage on a nearby wooden post. With a howl of frustration, she began to beat the ever-loving _shit_ out of the wood post with her steel rods. Her fingers were aching, her arms were burning - she didn't care. She kept smashing at the wood - needing, desperately, to _hit_ something. Her intended target was now gone.

Finally, she tired herself out, and she rested her forearm against the splintered, battered surface. She put her forehead against her arm, and let herself catch her breath.

She heard Conrad pulling Gabriel out of the pile of splintered barrels. She heard the feet on the packed dirt approach her. No. No, fuck this. She couldn't. Shoving the iron rods into the sheaths on her calves, she walked out. No, more aptly, she _stormed_ out of the windmill and into the open air. The cooler air of the field was a relief against her flushed face. She stood there for a moment, a pause - as she tried to figure out where to go.

Hearing more steps behind her, she just started walking in the direction of the castle. Well, she tried.

"Wait." A hand closed around her upper arm, stopping her from moving. She whirled on Adrian - fist raised, intending to sock him in the face. But a hand closed around her fist, stopping its path.

Gold eyes met her dark ones, and she growled in anger, and shoved him. He let himself be pushed back a step, and released her. When she tried to walk away again, he gripped her wrist, stopping her. He was not going to let her get away without an explanation - and she wasn't going to give him one.

She rounded on him with a kick - and he blocked it. She went for another punch, and he deflected it. Letting himself be a recipient of her rage. Now, it was his turn to be on defence only. She a dozen strikes at him, trying to punch or kick him, and each time he deflected them. But never once struck her in return.

Each time she threw a blow - he would block. But never respond. Letting her work through her anger - letting her tire herself out. When she would go to walk away from him - he would grab her by the arm to stop her. She'd try to kick him, punch him - he'd block, deflect. She could neither walk away, nor successfully hit him.

She could phase out to the spirit world and escape - but it would tire her out, more than she already was. Her anger was keeping her from thinking clearly anyway - all she wanted to do was storm away, or punch him in his _perfect face_ and the frustration of not being to do either.

She threw a punch once more, and once more he caught her fist in his hand. She met his gold eyes - passive, stern - almost emotionless. Declaring that _she_ was the problem. That she was being the unreasonable one. She let out a cry of anger and shoved him back again, and he let her. But that was the end of it. The judgement in his eyes was the end of it, and it finally broke down her rage. In the absence of the fire, there was a void. One that caved her inwards and made her unable to keep pointlessly tiring herself out.

Finally, her heart pounding, breath quick in her lungs, limbs exhausted and hurting, she gave up. She walked to the exterior wall of the mill, put her back against it, and slipped to the ground. Resting her elbows on her knees, she rested her head back against the wood wall, and let herself focus on slowing her heart rate down.

"He knew you," Adrian began the conversation, after letting her catch her breath.

She didn't answer. Couldn't. She didn't have a reply worth making. Neither a denial nor a confirmation, and it didn't really matter either way. It hadn't been a question anyway - it was a statement of fact.

"Who is he to you?" Gabriel asked from nearby. He sounded strained from his impact into the barrels - but fine.

"Nobody."

"What role has he played in your life?" Adrian asked, a far better, far more specific question. Gabriel had asked one that was easy to get around without overtly lying. Adrian's was much harder.

Veil opened her eyes finally and looked out across the treetops of the forest nearby. The ruddy hue of the sky, and the stars just barely visible beyond the haze. She took in a long breath, and let it out slowly, mentally preparing herself for the storm that was about to hit.

"He's my father."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again everyone for the reviews! Here's the next chapter. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

It was not often that Adrian found himself caught by surprise. Indeed, he believed that he had seen enough of the worst the world had to offer, to think it a nigh impossible task. And yet, it seemed the blue-haired, firebrand of a young woman was determined to prove him wrong in that matter, and at every possible turn.

After her admission that Death was her 'father,' it hadn't taken long for the two priests to begin levying condemnations at her.

"Let's just say for sake of argument, that this _doesn't_ put our whole workin' relationship into question-" Conrad yelled, his guns now drawn once more, pointing them at Veil. With a growl, he realized how useless it was to waste the bullets on her, and shoved them back into his holsters. But that didn't stop the Irishman from shouting. "You didn't think that the fact that 'Death' is your 'father' was maybe _worth mentioning?!"_

Gabriel had shouted in his own right, demanding more information. In fact, those two were doing the only talking. Adrian was only standing there, watching her silently - his own thoughts reeling in multiple directions, trying to make sense of what she had just said to them. How it could possibly be true. Death could not have progeny - not by his knowledge. Truthfully, it had never come up before.

Finally, it seemed Veil could not take the shouting and invectives anymore. "Just _shut up._ " She pushed herself back to standing - and clearly debated whether or not she should walk away, or stay there. If she walked away, now, she no doubt understood she was walking away permanently.

Conrad opened his mouth to let out another bevy of demands, but Adrian raised his hand to signal him to stop his attack. Surprisingly, he actually heeded Adrian's advice. "We can't jus' ignore what she's said," Conrad growled at him.

"I do not intend to do so," Adrian replied. "But accosting her is hardly productive."

"Fine then. But we don't take another step forward until she tells us _everything,_ " Conrad pointed angrily at her.

"I'm right here, assholes," Veil snapped at the priest - but still didn't turn to look. She was standing, her head lowered, blue hair falling along her face and obscuring her features.

It seemed that he had unwittingly volunteered to reconcile this situation. That was not his intention. He debated simply walking to the castle on his own - but he would need the help, if he were honest to himself. And on the subject of honesty, he was more than a little curious about her revelation and what it may portend. With a small sigh, he turned his attention back to the young woman.

As if sensing what was about to occur, and what he was about to insist, she spoke first. "No," was all she said.

"If we are going to continue together, you must."

Veil was looking out over the forest - at the castle beyond. Pointed, impossible towers and arching bridges. A thing of chaos, of death - of destruction. She could not take it on alone and have any hope of success. The young woman seemed to come to that same conclusion, and let out a long, wavering sigh.

"We aren't going to continue together, if I do," she said, her voice quiet. The levity that seemed to define her was once again shattered - the immense weight of her past having cracked the porcelain of her wit once more. The meaning was clear - that if they were to knew her whole story, they would no longer be willing to travel with her. When she turned her face halfway, silhouetted against the red moon beyond, he could see the sorrow in her. "That includes you."

Adrian stepped towards her, and as soon as he had, he was unsure as to precisely what had motivated him to do so. But something in her claim that her past was so loathsome that he would be turned away by it, hurt him. He would rather spar with her once more - let her unleash her emotions against him with fists, than have her like this. That was simple. This, was not.

He wasn't sure what he sought or what his intention was, stepping towards her as he had. He simply felt the need to do _something_. She was a raw, open wound in front of him, caught in a moment of weakness. This was not his area of expertise, dealing with matters such as this. So, faced with his own internal mystery, he did nothing.

His silence might as well have been a physical blow. She winced, and then he watched as her exposed pain became a spiteful indifference - defiance. She hid her sadness back behind her armor and turned her face away from him once more. The moment was gone as soon as it had come. Finally, she spoke. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

This was turning into a straight-up shitshow of a nightmare. But she was an idiot if she let herself believe that she was going to get through this whole 'adventure' without them learning who she was. No. Not _who -_ the who was unimportant. _What_ she was.

She wanted nothing more than to just walk away again. Just say 'fuck this' and leave. Veil was arguing with herself, back and forth and back again. It wasn't any of their business, what had happened. But no, it was, wasn't it? That was Death. Maybe not the death she knew from so long ago - but an aspect of the same being, nonetheless. He'd proven that much by saying her full name. Something he had no means of knowing otherwise.

So yes, it mattered to them. It had already come into play - pitting them against Death himself in a fight meant only for her. But it didn't mean she had to _like_ it.

Their focus was boring a hole into her as she stood there - all three of them, waiting for her to talk. She looked up at the red moon, and the hazy, red-grey sky. It reflected her mood pretty accurately. "Damn you," she whispered, to no one in particular. The words were meant for Death. For another as well. But neither could hear her.

Keeping her back to them, she began to tell the story. Watching their reactions to what she was saying would make this more difficult. "I was given life on November 1st, 1912. Thirty years to the day before I was murdered. You'll notice I said 'given life.' I was not born to a mother and a father. ...I don't have either. Not figuratively - as in they died, or abandoned me or whatever. I mean it _literally._ I was _created._ Made. Like a painting or a clay sculpture, I was produced from nothing." She paused to let it sink in. "But like alchemists looking for the Philosopher's Stone - making a human being from scratch is harder to do than you'd think. A _lot_ harder."

Veil rubbed a hand along the back of her neck as she spoke, trying not to get too emotional. Just trying to spit it all out, let it hit the grass like the bile it was, and then walk away before they beat her up too badly. She tried to tell the story as detached from it as possible.

"Who sought to do this?" Adrian prompted before she began again. "Death?"

"No," she paused again before saying the name. "Asmodeus."

"The fallen archangel?" Gabriel couldn't help himself but clarify.

She nodded, still not looking at them. "He's been on earth for thousands of years. He's always been quietly in the shadows, masquerading around as a human. When I knew him, he went by the name 'Alistair Solomon.' The cult that created me - the one that raised me, was run by the very monster they worshiped. At some point, he decided that he wanted to create a life, which was something that he was incapable of doing by more… normal means. So, he hit the drawing board. He made a body using his magic, and created the infant form with the sacrifices of others."

She folded her arms across her chest, half-hugging herself, as she talked. "But he couldn't bring it to life. So he convinced another to help him - the archangel Azrael - the angel of death. Azrael couldn't give the baby life - as he couldn't give it something he didn't have. But... He could _take away_ its death. Take away the thing over which he has full, and total control. In the absence of death, came life. And so, in that way… he is my creator. My father."

Veil looked out over the field, at the castle in the background - looming like the threat it was. "It's not like he hung around. I didn't see him again until November 1st, 1942. When I was murdered by the people who _did_ raise me." She stopped there, and let the seconds tick by as the three men considered her story. Waiting to see if she would continue.

"What of the fallen archangel?" Adrian asked after a long silence.

Veil laughed once through her nose, and let her gaze rest at her feet. She nudged a clump of grass with the toe of her knee high boot. "Alistair? … I killed him. I killed as many of those assholes as I could before I took off. But like your father, Alistair doesn't like to stay dead. I'd only killed his human body. It's impossible to kill an archangel, fallen or otherwise. His cult has been hunting me down ever since - generation after generation."

"He is the one pursuing you. The one to whom Death made reference," Adrian put together aloud for the benefit of the two priests, who she was sure were both a step behind the vampire.

Veil nodded, barely. "Alistair's the one who named me 'Selina,'" she spat out the name, it leaving a bad taste in her mouth. "And I don't _ever_ let anyone use it for that reason." Her threat was clear to the three of them - she was Veil. Now and forever.

There was another long silence, that seemed to drag on for minutes. "If you're going to shoot me, Conrad, just do it now." No answer. She rounded on him - glaring at the priest, her pain taking shape into anger. All her attempts to tell the story without becoming emotional failed, and it broke all at once. "I'm a freak of nature. A monster, an abomination - an unnatural... _thing,"_ she said the word with disgust for herself. "I was made from the blood of human sacrifices - _child_ sacrifices." Veil didn't hide her self loathing and hatred as she tried to goad him on. She wanted him to react with shouting - yelling - like he had before. But he was simply standing there, watching her - face twisted in shock. "I deserve to be put down like a _dog_ , like some failed science experiment! I am Frankenstein's monster."

She laughed at herself, and shrugged, turning away from him again, not able to stand the look of shock on his face, and the look of horror on Gabriel's. "Too bad I can't die," she shook her head. "And that's why. Now you know _why._ Because when they murdered me on that day - my death was taken away from me by the archangel Azrael. _Permanently._ He left my soul alive. Whole and intact. He didn't sever the cable that binds soul and body together. I thought when I killed Alistair I'd be set free. … No dice. I thought maybe I could only come back a finite amount of times - no dice. Do you know how many times I've killed myself?!"

Every emotion on a scale from hatred, anger, rage, sorrow, grief - and a sarcastic amusement at her own pathetic self, stampeded through her like bison. Waiting for a response from any of them, she got nothing. Fine. She was sick of this. "Now you all know the truth. You know what I am - what kind of miserable _thing_ I am. I keep insisting I'm human, but it's just a fucking sham. I'm far worse. I'm a sick and twisted homunculus made to amuse a king of hell. A life made from blood and clay to mock _God_." Veil lifted her head to glare at the three of them spitefully. "There! Are you all happy now?!"

All three stood there, watching her, each one with a unique expression. Gabriel in horror, Conrad in shock - and Adrian… Adrian stood there, watching her with a look part way between surprise, grief, and _pity._ It was that look from the vampire that made it all too much.

The emotional stampede ended, and it left her feeling just as trampled as if it had been real. She shrugged, defeated. "I'll leave you three to talk amongst yourselves. I want to keep going. But I understand if I'm no longer welcome." She turned her attention to the two priests. "If you decide you want to drag me back to Rome to imprison, study or dissect me - I'm not going to go peacefully."

Veil turned from them and walked away. When she made it to the edge of the hill, she kept going, heading in the direction of the castle. She came here to do her duty - to stop the evil of that place from spreading. And she'd do it alone if she had to.

When she reached the edge of the forest, she walked through the trees and the shrubs, and made it a few dozen feet in before her rampaging emotions had finally wound themselves out, and she felt like a top that finally ceased its spin, and was now rattling around on a tabletop uselessly. In the absence of anger, was just… tiredness.

She'd had a hell of a day. Made two allies, and lost them. Made a third ally, lost that one too. Died twice. Fought three times. Maybe four, if you count her one-sided punching match with Adrian. 'Reunited' for the first time in seventy years with her 'father.'

Veil slumped down onto a rock, and put her head in her hands, her elbows on her knees, and waited. A half an hour went by, as she sat there, head in her hands in the eerie silence of the forest - before footsteps approached. It was only one set - and judging by how light they were, it was Adrian.

They stopped ten feet from her, and waited. She didn't lift her head. She didn't want to see more pity and disgust. "Well? What've you decided?" she asked.

"That it is unwise to lower your guard in a place like this."

The voice wasn't one she recognized. It _wasn't_ Adrian. She went for her weapons and went to stand - but it was too late. As she straightened up - something punctured her chest, and pinned her to the tree behind her.

What had done the deed were the talons of an armored gauntlet. The fingers were decorated with sharpened, dangerous claws like that of a dragon or some other beast. Three of them had punched clear through her ribcage and into the tree behind her. She watched as her crimson blood oozed along their gold surface. She followed her gaze up the intricate armor, and found that it ran up past the elbow of a man. No, not a man - a vampire, face cold as he looked down at her from a considerable height. He was almost seven feet, she guessed - thin, and had neatly trimmed hair that was so light it matched his pale skin. His eyes, too, were such a light blue they were almost white. He was in all black - save for a white collar at his neck. A priest?! She was going to get killed twice in one day by two _different priests_ and _two different vampires?!_

Veil coughed through the pain, and her hands went to the creatures wrist reflexively. She wanted to say something - but couldn't. Two of his five digits had punctured her lungs. The world began to fade and tip, as she slipped once more into the world of the dead.

* * *

She was once more in the obsidian black waters of perfect stillness that stretched on forever - the space before true death. The moment the cable between body and soul was cut. The moment before stepping through the door. The door she'd never walk through.

Veil heard _his_ voice again, through the darkness. _My, my. You really are having a bad day, aren't you?_

"Fuck off Azrael," she said into the nothingness.

A sharp laugh was all she received in response.

* * *

Veil awoke with a sharp gasp, and groaned in pain as she felt the cold that had seeped into her core. Veil had had worse days than this, so far as a 'death count' - but very few. Three in one day was _not_ pleasant.

She breathed out - and watched the air exiting her turn to mist in the warmer air. The air she was exhaling was freezing - just like the rest of her. She was shivering violently, as her body desperately tried to regain warmth. She was lying on a stone floor, and there was an arched ceiling overhead. She wasn't in the forest anymore.

"Fascinating…" she heard from nearby.

She pushed herself up to standing as quickly as she could, and ran a hand through her blue hair to push it out of her face as she turned to face the voice and figure out where, exactly, she was. A church. Pews ran along the walls, and up to an altar with a twisted, grotesque cross. A cross made of the depictions of dead and dying people, in various forms of torture and decay. Gaping maws of skulls with candles in them decorated the altar.

The stained glass windows were a mockery of what they should be - fallen angels and demons decorating them, backlit by the hideous red moon. The floor was a shining black marble. It was a corrupted version of everything a church should be - and she expected that was exactly the point.

A few of the pews had been pushed against the walls to make more room in the center of the sanctuary - and that's where she now was. The vampire priest who had killed her - was standing about fifteen feet away, watching her keenly with his sharp, pale eyes.

Veil went for her weapons - and was surprised she still had them. She took them out of their sheaths, ready for a fight, as pointless as it was. Fighting this guy would be useless in her current state - he'd just kill her again, and restart the whole process. So, escape was the best option right now.

It was when she went to 'phase out' her body into the spirit world that she noticed the writing on the floor.

Looking down, she felt the hope of escape leave her. She knew the writing around the edges of the strange symbols - intertwining lines and symbols in a carefully arranged path. In the spirit world that she saw overlaid on top of the living world, the lines were all glowing a faint white. Like glow-in-the-dark, almost. It was a simple spell - fairly common. But no less problematic for her.

Veil let out a heavy sigh.

It was a spell to keep a soul trapped inside the circle. It was meant for summoning creatures from the beyond - pulling spirits from their world into ours, and keeping them under control. But for her, it meant she was stuck. She could walk her body out of it, no problem - but it wouldn't do her any good. She'd just snap right back to where her soul was, like two ends of a bungee cord. While the spell was active… she was stuck within its circumference.

Oh, she could get herself out of it no problem. Some kids studied french or english in class. Her? Enochian. That's what you get for being raised in a cult dedicated to a fallen angel. She had brought chalk in her bag, and she knew what to do to the writing on the floor to shatter the spell. But with the vampire priest watching her, what was the point? He'd just stab her again, and she's wind up back in another circle, or worse. So… looks like she was biding her time for now.

"Death has revealed much of your nature to us," the vampire said, his voice was deep, and soft. "I apologize for killing you, but there was no other way. It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady, albeit under unfortunate circumstances. My name is Lyon," he said with a low bow at the waist, folding one hand in front of him as he did.

She laughed hard - what the hell was happening to her? He was apologizing and calling her a 'lady?!' Now? Like this?! "Well aren't you just gosh-darn _adorable,_ Mr. Manners. Mind releasing me, while you're being all prim and proper?"

"I am afraid I cannot," he said as he straightened from his bow, folding his hands behind his back. He walked up towards the edge of the circle, and she was again struck by how tall and elegant he was. Now that she had met two vampires - she had to correct her opinion of Adrian's statuesque nature. Compared to this creature, Adrian was a regular life of the party. This vampire could have been mistaken for one of the marble effigies of demons and fallen angels that dotted the space if he held too still. And man, he could hold _really_ still by the look of things.

"Why bring me here?" she asked.

Lyon simply lifted a hand, and pointed a long finger towards the side of the church and the imagery that resided there.

Following his gesture, she saw the rows of stained glass windows that dominated that side of the church. Each was dedicated to a fallen angel or archangel, each in classical form - like you would find in any gothic cathedral. Sammael, Belial, Beelzebub, Mephistopheles.

Her eyes settled on one large stained glass feature - of another former archangel. Hailed as the 'most evil.' An archdemon. His hair was long and black as pitch, and the lower half of his face was shrouded in a crimson cloth that draped down his bare chest. His wings were spread, and they were the wings of a monster, not that of a holy creature. They looked more usable as a second set of arms almost, than traditional wings. Vicious, clawed digits extended from the highest bend, the 'wrist' of the wing - like some depictions of a dragon or wyvern, where the wings are part of the beast's front limbs.

The feathers themselves were blackish-grey, with flecks of green and blue like a peacock or an oil spill. His wings were spread out behind him in a pose befitting a stained glass window in a church. His hands were open at his sides, palms facing forward. He carried no weapon, like those in the nearby windows. He didn't need one. That wasn't his way.

Strings ran from his fingers to twisted and suffering figures at his feet - humans and creatures, strung up like puppets. She knew the face without even reading the scrolling text underneath the figure that labeled him. Asmodeus. _Alistair._ A King in Hell, indeed.

Her jaw clenched as she shot a glare back to the priest, who met her angry expression with a passive one. Veil put it together in her head without having to ask. When she died, Death could see where she was, and then Death would of _course_ relay the information along to his ex-brother-in-arms, and close friend. Like he always did.

From her experience and second-hand knowledge, the supposed 'war' between fallen angels and their heavenly brethren was not nearly as vehement as scripture would have people believe. There was, for lack of a better word, a 'truce.' Especially with angels that must walk the earth to perform their duties, like Azrael in command of death itself. Azrael and Alistair were 'old drinking companions,' as Alistair once told her.

But now that she had died (three times, she grumpily noted to herself,) Alistair and his goons would come for her, like they did everytime she died. Every time they had a lead on her location, they'd come running. It was why she tried to avoid dying so feverently (besides the fact that it hurt like a bitch.) It meant that she always had to stay on the go. Every time she died, crossed over and came back - she needed to leave where she was in a matter of a day or two, before she ran the risk of running into his cult. Or worse, Alistair himself. Death had made it very clear - Alistair was coming. To the castle. For _her._

Veil tapped her metal batons against her thighs lightly as she thought. Dracula and Death were friends. Death and Azrael were parts of the same whole. Asmodeus and Azrael were friends. The logic followed then, that Dracula and Asmodeus would be allies. But something seemed off about it, to her. There was something she was missing about this situation. "Am I a bargaining chip, or a gift to a friend?" she asked.

"It is not my place to say," Lyon said in response. At least he had confirmed that she was his prisoner because of Alistair's impending arrival. He'd done as much by pointing at the stained glass window.

Veil began to pace around the edge of the magic circle keeping her contained, thinking - twirling her metal baton in one hand as she did. They were something to fidget with, at least. "Who sent you out here after me? You didn't come on your own, I don't expect. Dracula? Or is someone else driving the castle this time?"

The priest was silent as she talked, refusing to answer her questions. The front door of the church was open, and she could see the outdoors beyond - grass, a road, and trees beyond it. "We're not in the castle yet, are we?"

"No." Finally! He answered a question with a legit response.

"Then why bring me here? And not there, where it's safer?" she asked curiously.

"The castle was too far to travel, and risk you returning to life before the spell was cast," Lyon responded, his hands folded behind his back again.

"Eh, bullshit," she responded, stopping her circular pacing with a shake of her head. "I'm not buying that. You can teleport back there, I bet. And even if you can't, somebody _else_ can. So that's not a good reason."

Lyon remained silent, watching her with all the expression as one the marble statues near him. So she kept talking, as she was prone to do. "Dracula doesn't want Alistair to set foot inside the castle, does he?" she said thoughtfully, tilting her head as she thought it over. "That's only key if he _isn't_ an ally. He's a potential threat, then. So I _am_ a bargaining chip after all… interesting."

The vampire priest narrowed his eyes just barely - indicating displeasure at her piecing it together with his unwilling help. She grinned in response to that and pointed one her batons at him with a grin. "Hah! I'm right. Gotcha." Even though it was exactly the same lousy situation she was in just a few moments prior, it felt somehow _less_ bad that Dracula and Alistair weren't allies. She was still screwed, but maybe she could find a way to use it to her advantage. Pit them against each other. But right now, she was still stuck inside a ceremonial magic circle. Well, one thing at a time, anyway.

Lyon only sighed in response and shook his head, as if to say 'kids these days.'

"Well, we're going to be here for a while," Veil said as she re-sheathed her weapons, unshouldered her bag and put it down on the ground. She sat down on the floor, 'getting comfortable' and using her bag as a makeshift pillow. "It'll probably take them another day, day and a half to get here. I hope you have a plan for when I need to use the little girl's room."

"We are working on a more tenable solution. This is only temporary while that is produced," he said calmly as he walked over to one of the pews near the edge of the circle, and sat down.

Veil bent her knees and put one ankle across her other leg, trying to look as casual as she could. Like she wasn't incredibly worried. She put her arms underneath her head, and let herself try and rest. She needed it after the shenanigans of the day - and this might be her only chance. There wasn't a damn thing she could do right now, and it was pointless to try. She'd need to build everything back up for when she had the chance to escape.

"You are taking this all very well," the vampire priest observed, sounding slightly amused.

She opened an eye to look at him, and then shut it again. "No point in freaking out now. Going to need to freak out plenty later." Veil tried to keep her nerves tamped down. Alistair was coming - one way or another. She was a vampire's prisoner. But Veil'd find a way out of this one way or another - she always did. The other option - that maybe she didn't succeed - was bad enough that she didn't want to even consider it.

"Although with your particular condition - most threats must seem somewhat dull."

Was he insinuating that she wasn't taking this seriously? That rubbed her the wrong way to say the least. She sat up and looked at him. "What do you want me to do? Scream? Cry? Wail against the walls of this stupid spell you've got me stuck inside? Or should I be begging you for freedom? Asking you to let me go? Trying to appeal to your _softer side?_ " she snorted and shook her head. "I'm not an idiot."

He was watching her, still amused - but surprisingly, he didn't seem condescending about it. "I would not have assumed otherwise."

Whatever image she had in her head about vampires seemed to have been painted very wrong, if Adrian and this 'Lyon' were anything to go by. "Then what're you trying to say, skippy?"

He looked at her quizzically at the name, and then laughed once, quietly. "That you are handling this in such a… blithe manner, that it makes me wonder if you are not unaccustomed to playing the role of prisoner."

"Are you asking me a question, fang-face?" Veil snapped at him, not appreciating what he was saying. Largely because it was true. She knew she was confirming his theory with her reaction, but she couldn't help it. That seemed to have been his point, as he looked at her, still smiling faintly. It seemed she wasn't the only one able to play word games.

"I beg your pardon," Lyon said, bowing his head just barely. "I meant no offence."

"Whatever." Veil sighed hard and laid back down, and glared up at the marble, soaring arched ceilings. The cathedral was grandeousely built - gothic arches, detailed with intricate quatrefoils and other imagery. It would have been a stunning work of architecture, if it weren't marred by oil paintings of demons ripping people to pieces - or statues of fallen angels, impaling their more holy brethren with vicious weapons, or sitting on thrones made of humans - some alive, some not.

Veil didn't pay them much mind. Statues and idols like the ones that lined the walls - while horrifying and grotesque - weren't anything new or foreign to her. This was how she grew up, after all. The priest seemed content to sit there in silence. So, without any further reason to pay any attention to him, she let her eyes drift shut.

* * *

She was on her knees, head bowed, as if in prayer. She knelt at the base of marble stairs leading up to a large, flat altar, built to glorify their living god - Asmodeus. Or rather, 'Alistair,' as he preferred to be called. She was wearing a pure white silk robe, tied around the waist, and with nothing underneath. The hood was drawn up over her head. Her hands were clasped in front of her. Each of her wrists was bound with a golden rope - each rope in the hand of a man in a black robe at her side. It was largely symbolic, she knew. She could have wiggled her way free if she wanted to.

She was trembling - but not out of fear. Out of nervous excitement.

The cathedral had been carefully prepared for this moment. It was lit only by candles - the soft rushing noise of air from the massive iron candelabras and the hanging chandelier overhead was the only thing to be heard. To do otherwise would profane the sacred solemnity of the moment. The holiness of it.

Dozens upon dozens of people were there - standing in lines against the walls, hoods drawn, heads bowed in reverence to them both - black robes obscuring their faces. But she knew them all by name. They were her family, after all.

She had been lead up the dark rug, woven with blue and green threads, to reflect _his_ colors. Her heart was pounding in her chest. This was the moment she had waited for since she was a little girl. The moment that all her life, she had been prepared for. The moment that she ascended - as she was _meant_ to do.

"Come."

She rose from her knees, and climbed the stairs, the two men in black standing one to each side, the ends of the golden cords that bound her wrists still grasped in their hands. The marble stone was cold under her bare feet.

The altar at the top was carved with gothic arches, and quatrefoils to mirror the architecture of the church itself. The beautifully carved, intricate piece was decorated with a golden cloth laid atop it - like a table runner - from end to end. The two men in the black robes lead her close, and as they did, she willingly sat upon, then swung her legs up to lay down upon it. The men with the golden ropes brought her wrists up over her head, and tied them to the edge of the stone table.

A hand brushed the silken hood back, then ran its fingers gently along her dark hair. She looked up and into the face that she knew almost as well as her own. He might as well have been hewn from the same marble that created the cathedral, so sculpted were his features. The statue of a greek god.

His hand lingered along her cheek, fingertips running slowly down her skin as he smiled at her - his eyes a stunning shade of blue and green glinting in the candlelight. "Are you ready?" he said to her, his enigmatic, velvet voice a whisper meant only for her.

"Yes," she replied, smiling back. "I have always been ready."

He lifted a dagger aloft over her chest. The flickering candles in their candelabras glinted against the polished, obsidian blade for a brief moment before it plunged into her heart.

* * *

Veil woke up from her dream with a start. She jolted - almost feeling like she was falling, and then let out a small noise as she pressed her hands over her eyes.

"You were dreaming," came the inquisitive voice of the vampire priest - Lyon.

"Thank you, captain obvious," she replied with a mutter as she lowered her hands and sat up. She combed her blue hair back away from her face and looked over at him - doing her best to look disgruntled. "How long was I out?"

"Three hours, perhaps? Your dream did not seem like a pleasant one," he observed, once again stating the obvious.

"Can't imagine why."

"Perhaps of the last time you were in a place such as this," he finally 'got to the point' of his leading statements.

"Death needs to keep his trap shut," Veil griped and pulled her bag around to her side, unzipping it, and began leafing through it. When the priest shifted as if her movements were making him nervous, she rolled her eyes. "I'm going for a granola bar, chill out." She slipped a piece of chalk up her sleeve as she went about fishing out the cliff bar in question. Veil figured when she had a chance to escape - it'd be a short window, and she wanted to be ready to break the spell. As she sat back, she lifted up the cliff bar to him. "Want one?"

"No, thank you…" he seemed to find her both perplexing and amusing. Sadly she wasn't successful in changing the subject like she was trying to do. "Death 'kept his trap shut,' as you say, quite well until you appeared upon on our doorstep. None knew you existed, even Master Dracula himself. Upon discovering you, he demanded the 'whole story,' as it were. You are quite the surprising little marvel."

"Aw, you mean he didn't show off pictures of me on daddy-daughter day in the office?" she laid back on her bag again, munching on the cliff bar. "My feelings are almost hurt. Oh. Wait. No, they're not. Nevermind."

Lyon chuckled, and shook his head. "I am beginning to hear the resemblance." She shot him a vicious glare, and he sighed. "That is precisely why I do not attempt to 'make jokes.'"

"Sore subject."

"Tell me something - I am curious.. You refer to Death as your father, but not Asmodeus - who had an equal, if not greater, hand in making you. Why?"

Veil stretched her legs out in front of her, and twisted, cracking her back one way, and then the other. She took the time of the motion to think about her answer to a question she was _incredibly_ unwilling to respond to. "You're asking me why I don't say I have two daddies? Because I loathe Alistair more than you can imagine. Expressly _because_ I'm the product of his sick and twisted mind. I don't want any part of me associated with him - it's also why I changed my name." It was a half truth - and very much not the whole story. But if Death hadn't felt the need to answer that particular question, then she certainly wasn't going to be the one to volunteer up the information.

It seemed to satisfy him, at least enough so that did not press the subject. Suddenly, he snapped to attention, springing to his feet - as someone's footfalls echoed in the church. They weren't alone anymore. His hands moved to his sides, and she watched as the golden, dangerous looking clawed gauntlets appeared on his hands by magic. He took a defensive stance. Whoever it was, was not a friend.

She scrambled to her feet as well, and turned to see who had entered, she blinked in surprise. Adrian was silhouetted against the moonlight outside, standing in the doorway. "Well, shit," Veil said with a small laugh. "I am _so happy_ to see you."

Adrian stepped forward into the room, his long, thin sword drawn and at the ready. One of his hands was folded behind him, like a fencer ready to duel. He didn't respond to her, keeping his gold eyes trained on the priest.

"Master Adrian - it brings equal joy and sorrow to my heart to see you after all these many years. Or is it Master 'Alucard' now?" Lyon asked, as he stepped around the magic circle keeping Veil trapped. The two of them were ready for a fight. Lyon was discounting her entirely.

That was Lyon's mistake - turning his back on her. He thought she was harmlessly trapped, after all.

Taking the chalk out of her sleeve, she crouched down and began to write over the markings on the floor that were keeping her trapped - dash lines and marks in ancient enochian that made the spell fizzle and sputter out into nothingness.

As she stood up, she pulled out her metal rods from their sheaths, and grinned. Payback time. "Hey Adrian - duck."

"What?!" Lyon asked, turning to look at her.

" _Fore!_ "

* * *

Adrian watched as the translucent image of Veil - her soul - dashed _through_ Lyon at a speed he could barely see. Not one to ignore a warning, he stepped aside as her body followed suit - careening into Lyon with the force of a runaway train. He hurtled through the air with the impact, and soared out the door of the church. When Veil had stopped moving at the point of impact, she was holding her shoulder and swearing. "Go-" she said to him. "I'm fine."

Lyon had reached the ground, and tumbled for one or two rotations before he dug his feet into the dirt in a crouch. The talons of one claw raked deep trenches in the packed surface as he worked to slow himself down. He continued to slide backwards with the inertia of the hit for quite a few feet before managing to finally stop himself.

Lyon's other hand was pressed against his chest in pain from the impact - and judging by the strained look on his face, he did not escape the blow without injury. Adrian was at least happy to see someone _else_ suffer from an attack from Veil like that. It would also make the priest easier to fight - and Adrian would accept the help happily.

Adrian walked down the stairs of the church to meet him out in the open. He heard Veil approach shortly after, and saw her stand beside him out of the corner of his eye.

Lyon stood, slower than he usually would if uninjured, his hand still pressed against his sternum, gripping the fabric of his coat. He went to begin to speak - but stopped, as his head tilted slightly as if listening to a voice they could not hear. "I have been instructed not to engage you both in open battle… So for now, I bid you both farewell."

Adrian summoned as much speed as he could to strike down the priest before he disappeared - but by the time he covered the forty feet between them, his blade passed through empty air.

Adrian turned to walk back to the stairs of the church, where Veil had sat down, still rubbing her shoulder and rotating it experimentally. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, although looked no less pained. "Nothing's free. Everything I do hurts in some way or another." There was a long moment of silence between them. Veil finally broke it, but didn't look up. "How'd you find me?"

"Luck." Veil shut her eyes, and looked as though he had just slapped her. Adrian realized his misstep in not providing more context. Communication was never his strong suit. "I mean to say, we split up to search when we could not find you. It is only by luck that I came this way, and not Gabriel and Conrad."

Veil looked up at him, confusion and disbelief clear in her brown eyes. Not believing the words that left his mouth. Not believing that they had sent out in search for her, in lieu of letting her rot. "What did you guys decide…?"

Adrian paused for as long as he could before answering - reticent to give her the news. "We were at an impasse on a true resolution. The agreement is that for now, we are to continue on together, and determine how to 'handle' this, when the threat of Dracula's castle is gone."

Veil shut her eyes and lowered her head for a moment, the 'indecision' being clear enough of a message. Her hands clenched into fists. "In other words: 'You're a mutant freak designed by a demon, so we're going to have to imprison you at best. But we're really short staffed right now, and you might somehow get obliterated in all this mess anyway. So we'll hold off on that until we have no further use for you.' Coming from the son of _Dracula_ that's some fucking nerve."

Adrian's jaw twitched at her angry tone. "Do not put words into my mouth."

"Oh? So what's _your_ opinion then?!" she glared up at him. Clearly the rejection at the hands of Gabriel and Conrad stung her - even if it did not come as a surprise.

"That it is not my place to condemn you by your manner of creation. I too am an abomination in their eyes. Only by my actions and my… usefulness, are they willing to overlook such fact. Birthright is not a worthy sin."

Veil winced and looked back down at her feet with a dejected sigh, and ran both her hands through her dark blue hair. "... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jump down your throat. I just…" she trailed off, unable to finish her thought.

"You are forgiven," he responded and held out his hand to her. "A fair trade for having run my sword _through_ your throat earlier, perhaps."

Veil looked up at him, quizzically. "I'll be damned - was that a _joke?_ "

"I believe so," he responded with a smirk.

"Well then… we're even." She placed her hand in his, and her warm skin against the cooler temperature of his reminded him sharply of his own lack of humanity. At least hers was masked within her history - undetectable to the eye. He could never meander through a city street without humans becoming unsettled by his presence. And for what reason would he do such a thing? He reminded himself that was not his world.

He was jealous in some strange way, of her humanity. But he would not wish to be the product of a history such as hers if given the choice. Even with her forced telling of her tale, he knew there was much she had not told them. And with the reactions of the priests of the Order, it was no large surprise. Yet he found quite suddenly the keen desire to be trusted by her. It was a thought he would puzzle over for the next several hours, as they walked through the night woods towards the ever looming presence of the castle upon the horizon.

* * *

Lyon rose from his knee at the base of the stairs to Dracula's throne. One of his hands was still clutching the fabric of his coat over his chest. The girl had shattered his sternum when she had careened into him. It was a sudden and unexpected attack, that he was scolding himself for not anticipating. The girl was apparently clever when it came to the ways of magic. Death had not provided such information - and yet, it was not wholly unexpected, considering her upbringing.

"Forgive me, my lord," Lyon spoke quietly. "I was careless."

"You will have another chance to face them both, I am sure. It is not a monumental loss - as they are not outside our grasp even as she walks free," the vampire king responded. He was sitting, looming in the shadows, leaning back against his elaborate throne. Long clawed nails tapped lightly against the carved arm as he thought. "But we must now work to pull all players from the shadows to reveal their hands."

"Sir?"

A cruel twist of the lips, and Dracula's red eyes glinted in the torchlight. "Unleash the hordes."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi All! Chapter five, here we go. As always, pop me a line if you enjoy and/or have thoughts on the story!**

 **Just fair warning: Next chapter may send this back into Rated M World for some pretty descriptive violence. So... yeah. It'll be a shorter chapter and on its own for those who want to skip it.**

* * *

No one simply _walks_ into Mordor.

But apparently that's exactly what a person has to do to get to Dracula's Castle. And a holy crap, there was a lot of it to be done. Nobody told her there would be so much _hiking_ involved. Yeah, sure - it made sense. They were here, the castle was there. The things that needed killing were in the castle. Hence, walking. Hours of it.

It might not have been so bad, if her companion wasn't content to exist in silence. Every time she'd talk to him, he'd respond to her questions, and then let it trail off into silence without attempting to continue it himself. He apparently never learned that conversation was a two person dance. Or didn't care to try.

It wasn't until about hour three of walking up the incline of the gravel road that wound its way through the mountain range, that he made a small 'hm,' noise, followed by a small chuckle. "What?" she asked curiously, and looked up at her taller, stoic companion.

"I just realized why you dubbed yourself 'Veil.'"

She laughed in response and shook her head. "The other option was 'Kenny' - but that is a joke you really won't get, so I won't bother making it. But really? Just now? Man. I mean, I know it's not as 'on the nose' as stomping around calling yourself 'Alucard,' but sheesh."

"I did not give myself that moniker." He slowed half a step to walk beside her so that he could watch her as he spoke. "It was given to me by the people of Wallachia many, many years ago now."

"Ah," she said with a faint smile. "It struck me as a little too dramatic for you."

"It suits my needs from time to time."

"When you don't want someone knowing who you are?"

"Yes."

"I hate to tell you buddy, but 'Adrian Tepes' is going to sound a lot less weird to people now than 'Alucard.' You might want to reprint your business cards," she said with a cheeky smile.

"Do you realize that I only understand perhaps one third of what comes out of your mouth?" he pointed out dryly.

Veil cracked up at that, smiling brightly and stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. "Oh I know. It's part of the fun." She nudged his elbow with hers as they walked side by side. That earned a turn of his head as he looked down at her with his golden eyes, once more bemused by her behavior. "I'm just teasing you in fun, you know that, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Hey, when was the last time you were up and about anyway? Clearly not recently."

"It was 1894, I believe." Adrian looked off into the trees for a moment. "If you alone are any indication as to the modern times - much has changed since then."

"That wins the award for understatement of the year. Technology's changed more in the past twenty than the last two hundred. Miss ten years, you're going to get lost - let alone over a hundred."

"It matters not. When Dracula falls, I will return to sleep until I am needed once more."

Veil almost stopped walking when he said that - and turned to look at him as they walked. He returned his own gaze to the road, avoiding eye contact. "Wait… You mean, the past… what, five hundred years have been you only waking up for at most a few _months_ at a time? You're only around every time your dad decides he's got an itch to scratch?"

Adrian was silent for a long time, before finally responding. "Yes." Veil wasn't sure what she heard in his voice. Shame? Embarrassment? His razor sharp features were darkened with whatever cloud had come over him. Perhaps he simply didn't want to talk about it. Well, tough - she had to go through her own dodgy past plenty in the past forty-eight hours. It was his turn.

"That's awful. Why?"

"Why not?" he retorted, with no small amount of bitterness in his voice. "What has this world to offer one such as I?"

"I don't know - what does life have to offer anyone, ever? Food, sightseeing, experiences - adventures. Friendship, laughter, companionship, love, and so-on." Veil said with a shrug. He was asking her the purpose of life - something she'd never had to defend before.

"Friendship and companionship? Love, with those doomed to die before my eyes? In a world bound to fade away from me? No. I have no life to live. No life worth living." Adrian was somehow _angry_ about this - and she saw his fangs extend as he spoke.

Veil touched his arm, meaning to turn him towards her. He rounded on her - and suddenly she found her wrist clasped in his hand - his golden eyes glaring down at her with his sudden and seemingly inexplicable mood shift. "Look at me! How could I walk a city street, and live as they do?! What reason would I have to associate with them, only to inevitably be cast out or hunted for what I am? You are able to hide within a crowd. You can _pretend._ I am allowed no such luxury. It would be only a matter of time before I would be found out, no matter how careful I or my 'friends' would be at keeping my secret."

She was so stunned, she didn't even bother to try and yank her hand away, or phase out into the spirit world to escape. He was arresting in all of his actions. The simplest look or gesture seemed to root her to the spot. Under his piercing gold gaze, she was frozen. Veil simply looked up at his anger, his loneliness, his hurt. "Have you ever really tried?"

His jaw twitched as he looked up, over her head and past her - unable to meet her gaze any longer. "... No." He released her wrist, and turned to walk away once more. But she put her hand back on his arm to stop him. He could have pulled away. But Adrian stayed there, and waited.

"Adrian," she said quietly, and put her hand on his back, gently. She had no idea why she felt the need to try and comfort him. But she tried not to second-guess these things. And Adrian seemed to be a man who had never once in his life, ever been shown empathy by anyone. "Believe it or not, I know how you feel."

"How could you?"

"My friend, Richard, who you haven't met... The one sitting back at the base where they were holding you. He's in his late forties now. When I met him, he was a terrified little ten year old boy. I pulled him out of a cage in the basement of a building used by a religious order dedicated to Bael. They had murdered his family, and were going to do the same to him, next. I've watched him grow up. For a long time I think he loved me. But I refused to let him try to push it any further. I couldn't do that to him. To me, either. I watched him become a man, fall in love, have a family of his own - things I'll never have. I'll watch him die. I'll watch his children die. And theirs, too." She kept her hand on his back. "Don't you think I don't realize what it means, to care? It would be easier just to say 'fuck it' and lock myself away like you do. But then all I'd be doing is… treading water."

Adrian bowed his head, his long hair falling along his face, obscuring it from view. "You are barely beginning your journey through the coldness of time. You will come to learn what it means to be this way. You will learn that locking oneself away to suffer it alone is the kinder existence for all involved." And with that, he began walking again, away from her. With a sigh, she had no choice but to follow.

* * *

They finally reached the edge of another small village - one long since removed from time. It was like stepping into Colonial Williamsburg, if it had been abandoned after a plague. This one, though - was situated at the base of a gigantic wall. The outer edges of some kind of armament or rampart. It seemed to mark the edge of the property of the 'castle proper' - which was now looming much closer in the distance than prior. It's towers were now silhouetted against the moon like claws tearing rips into the sky itself.

At the end of the village, where the main road split in two to greet the stone wall, was a massive wooden gate. It was split in half, and flanked by two stone watchtowers - their stoic silhouettes cut in pure darkness against the red sky. They loomed over the ramshackle, thatched-roof village at its base like two knights - forever in their outward watch, removed from time, locked inside the corruption that was Dracula's castle.

In some former life, this village had been a marketplace for travelers passing through the gate and up to the castle. Now, it was a figurative (and literal) ghost town.

Veil shuddered and pulled her coat closer to her, despite the temperature not having shifted at all. She could see, overlaid upon the normal world, the ghastly figures of people moving from place to place. Spirits and wandering dead, who did not know (or care) that they had long since died. They were still going about their daily routines, with no heed they were completely detached from the living world.

"What is it?" Adrian asked, seeing her response to the village as they paused at its edge.

"I can see ghosts - or, really, anything in the spirit world. Because half of me is there, all the time. So… this place is just a _titch_ haunted," she said facetiously, holding up her thumb and pointer finger to measure a space in the air about an inch apart for the sake of comedy. "Y'know, just a smidge, tiny, wee bit completely _overrun with the dead_."

He laughed once, a faint smile on his face as he shook his head, clearly amused at her antics despite his better judgement. He turned his attention away from her, in an attempt to hide his smile as he focused his attention back to the village. "There." He pointed - and Veil saw - if she strained - two figures standing near the massive gate on the other side of the village. "The priests."

Veil couldn't help but groan.

"I know," he responded and began walking. "But we will need whatever help we can muster."

She followed him as she shoved her hands into her coat pockets, and griped under her breath about how she was really sick of being lectured, yelled at, and otherwise generally _stabbed_ today.

"You should not need to worry - neither of them carry knives," Adrian said from in front of her. His inhuman hearing letting him easily pick up on her words, despite them being under her breath.

Veil blinked - stunned. Not that he heard her, but that he made an attempt at a joke. "Wow. Two in one day?"

"You should consider yourself exceedingly lucky." A glance back at her with a dour yet somehow playful-at-the-edges look on his cut features.

"Three?" She fanned her face with her hand and donned a fake southern accent. "Why, I do declare!"

He turned away from her again but not before she caught a broader smile on his face. She couldn't help but smile as well. Somehow this little exchange with him had cheered her up, despite them walking through a town of ghosts and approaching two men who wanted to lock her up, or worse.

When they finally reached the gate, Gabriel stood from where he had been sitting on a crate. Conrad had been leaning against a wall, polishing one of his guns. They looked at Adrian and Veil with cold and wary expressions.

"Where did you find her?" Gabriel asked Adrian, once again referring to her like she wasn't standing there.

"Prisoner to one of my father's eldest creations."

Gabriel tilted his head a little, as if not completely understanding - or believing - what Adrian had said. "Prisoner? What for?"

"A bargaining chip," Veil spoke up. She didn't want to tell them the reason why - hell, she didn't even want to _talk_ to them. But if they were about to risk their lives together, she owed them at least a passable explanation. "For Alistair - Asmodeus. He'll come here, looking for me."

"You are family to Death - and he would allow this?"

"We aren't close, I told you," Veil retorted bitterly.

"You're _that_ important to Asmodeus, then?" Conrad asked narrowly. They could sense they were missing a part of the story, and were trying to poke and prod at any seeming gap in her tale.

"Guess so." No, she _knew_ so. And knew exactly why. But she wasn't going to give up free information. Not to them, anyway. So she went with a plausible half-truth. "Don't forget - I killed him. I'm not sure if he's pissed, or, what - but yeah. His asshole goons have been chasing me for over seventy years." Veil kept her hands tucked in her pockets and stood half behind Adrian. She wasn't sure why she stood behind him, like he was her protector. It's not like she needed him to keep her safe from the priests - but he served as some kind of fake barrier between her and the Order priests who wanted to leave her for (figurative) dead.

"Dracula fears Asmodeus?" Gabriel asked Adrian.

"I do not know for certain. But, he is a tactician," Adrian said as he looked up at the gigantic gate before them. "He would access any player upon the board and treat them as a threat. Fear may be too strong a word."

"Either way, it looks like we're shit out of luck-" Conrad said as he pointed a thumb towards the gigantic door. "Controls are on the other side, and we ain't gettin' up and over this wall."

Gabriel sighed. "Conrad, we have spoke of this, there must be a way around."

"Can't he-" Conrad pointed at Adrian now, "Just sprout bat wings and _fly_ over the wall?"

"It is not so simple-" Adrian responded, eyes narrowing at the 'bat wings' comment.

And so, a three-way argument ensued between them about how, precisely, they were going to get through a thirty foot tall, solid wood door, built into a fifty foot sheer stone wall. There was no walking _around_ it - as it likely stretched for a hundred miles around the circumference of the castle itself.

Adrian was insisting that any attempt to 'mist or bat' himself up over the wall was not a feasible option at this time. When they pressed him for details, he would only screw his face up into a look of disgust and annoyance and say 'it does not work that way.'

"Guys?" she tried to interrupt. No avail.

"You do not know of what you speak-"

"There must be some kind of-"

"Really? So you want us to just walk back and get a grappling hook?! Or a helicopter?!"

"I insist that we-"

"Guys," she tried to cut in again. No dice. They were all ignoring her, yammering at each other in circles. Gabriel growing more frustrated - Conrad more animated, and Adrian looking like he was developing the worst migraine he'd had in several centuries. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his gloved hand like he was dealing with petulant children. And, in his opinion, he probably was.

"Idiots," Veil muttered with a shake of her head as she phased her body out of the physical world an into the spirit one. The colors around her shifted - the red of the sky becoming a swirling, multicolored mass of currents of air of varying temperatures and speed. The spirits around her became brighter. They ceased to be a pale after-image of their presence and instead became the focus of the now pale, desaturated living world. The three men continued to argue, not having noticed her disappearance. Their voices sounded like they were trapped inside a glass fishbowl. Muffled, but barely audible.

"I'll just go ahead and _walk through the door-"_ she said to herself, her words echoing meaninglessly through the weird white-noise of the spirit world.

One of the nearby ghosts - a woman, in a long dress of brown, blue and unbleached cotton that looked like it could have been from anywhere between the 12th and 17th centuries - looked up from her work. She had been tending a garden that had long since ceased to grow, and was now a tangled mess of dead and dried weeds. Although through her perspective, they could have been blooming, wonderful flowers. It was impossible to know. "Excuse me?" she asked, perplexed at hearing a voice in the darkness.

"Huh? Oh - sorry, not talking to you," she said back, honestly a little surprised that the ghost noticed her. Most of the time they just flitted around, doing 'their thing,' ignoring her. Or at least unable to really process her existence in their faded, broken minds. But the castle likely brought with it a whole score of new kinds of dead people.

"I - what _are_ you? You are not of this world!" the ghost asked, confused and now afraid. She was standing, clutching her hands against her chest in a way that Veil had been certain really only happened in movies. The ghost retreated - then scampered away as fast as she could.

Veil looked down at herself, curious - wondering what she looked like in this world that was so terrifying. Too bright, maybe? "Weirdo," Veil commented to herself as she turned to finish the job at hand.

She stepped through the massive wood door - and felt a little weird as she did. Pressing through objects was kind of like pressing through different levels of viscous liquid. Water, dish soap, jelly - they all felt different. Wood was normally not _too_ bad - but this wood was at least two feet thick. She reached the other side, feeling herself 'pop' through the viscous barrier. Taking a cursory look around, she saw guard tower to her left had a door built into the ancient granite structure. The controls _must_ be in there. Another step through a locked door, and sure enough - she found the counterweight winch system. One to open, one to close, she assumed.

Veil reappeared in the physical world, and watched her breath turn to mist in the warmer air. With a shiver and a crack of her neck, she went about the task at hand. She grabbed one of the levers and gave it a hard yank. It didn't budge. With a grumble, she 'put her back into it' and gave it another stiffer pull. It almost toppled her over backwards as it finally lurched from its previous position to the other end of its' track. Veil stood up and smiled in triumph - but could only enjoy it for a second before she jumped as the tower made a reverberating _ka-clank_ followed by the near-deafening racket of ratcheting chain. Veil lifted the lock on the door out of the guard tower as fast as she could, and ran away from the horrible noise of rusty chain flying around an old, and well worn pulley. Her hands were over her ears to try and protect herself from the din.

The doors were swinging outward now - creaking and making unhappy noises as the old wood and chain mechanism lurched to life for the first time in many centuries. She rubbed her ear in an attempt to stop the ringing in it left behind from the chain's movement.

She walked towards the center of the doors as it began its track open, and stopped to proudly put her hands on her hips. Veil was smiling as she saw Adrian, Gabriel and Conrad on the other side of it, perplexed and confused. Amazed at the movement of the doors.

"Gee, if only we knew somebody who could _walk through walls,"_ she said, putting her finger on her chin in sarcastic pondering.

Gabriel and Conrad walked forward - and once again she saw Adrian's faint smile as he approached after them. All three pulled up short, though - as their faces turned to ones of surprise, and horror.

Veil wondered for a second if she had sprouted a second head before she realized, with a sinking feeling - that they weren't looking at her. They were looking _past her._ Veil realized she hadn't even bothered looking _up_ the mountain when she had stepped through the door. She had been very much focused on the task at hand.

Veil turned around slowly, dreading whatever she would find there. What she saw, made her heart sink further into her stomach than she had thought was possible. It was what it must feel like, to stare down the running of the bulls - to look into the eyes of a maddened, unstoppable force of nature.

"Oh. Well… fuck." Was all she could put together.

An army.

It was an actual goddamn _army._ Worthy of a major motion picture - not her _actual_ life. Row after row of creatures going back as far as she could see. Demons, monsters - winged beasts and multi-headed things mixed with the undead of every measure. The rhythmic sound of a drum pounded in the background now - almost too faint to be heard - the sound of the army advancing.

At its head, was a winged beast that resembled a dragon. Its black scales shone in the light of the red moon. It twisted its neck to one side as it saw them, craning its head about to get a better look at the insignificant creatures in its path - and let out a roar that shook the door behind them in its hinges. The noise was so loud, that for a second, it was the only thing that seemed to exist.

Its maw was dripping with blood as it roared, the red liquid dropping to the ground in large droplets that fell to the packed dirt like a long awaited rain. When it shut its mouth, its pointed, deadly teeth went through its own flesh, reopening the wounds. The monster was perpetually injuring itself - over and over again. A source of incessant rage and pain.

It reared back, filling its lungs with air in order to breath out - _something_ awful _-_ and that was enough motivation for them to run.

The guard tower was the closest thing to them. She turned back to the three 'boys' and shouted 'go!' as she pointed towards the door. Adrian and Conrad bolted without another thought - but Gabriel was locked still - staring, agape at the creature. Shock and fear had frozen him in his tracks.

"C'mon!" she screamed, but it would be too late. The monster behind them began to exhale through a roar - and she felt the wash of heat and fire at her back. Veil ran forward and tackled Gabriel - wrapping her arms around him as they fell to the ground. As they toppled over, she phased them _both_ into the spirit world.

Gabriel screamed as fire - spectral and ineffective - roared above and _through_ them as though they weren't there. And technically, they weren't. In fact, this world was a freezing, deathly cold - not an inferno.

Veil grabbed his hand as she pushed herself to standing, yanking him up with her. "Hold my hand. Don't let go. Just don't _fucking let go,_ no matter what you do-" she shook the priest by one arm, and grabbed his other hand in hers, trying to shake him out of his horrified reverie. "Or else you're stuck here. Understand?!"

Gabriel was now shivering - eyes wide and in shock as he looked around them, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. As the fire around them ended, he then saw the world as she did. Faded colors of the natural world, replaced with the swirling, saturated energy around them. Gabriel's skin was turning pale already from exposure to a world where he had absolutely _no_ business being. His mortal body would be snuffed out here like a single candle in the arctic wind. She was used to this. She had been literally _built_ for this. He was very much not.

Veil began to drag him towards the guard tower. His steps were staggering, faulty and lurching behind her. But she didn't stop yanking him along. They didn't have much time. Specifically, _he_ didn't have much time. The door was already slammed and locked shut. _Good boys,_ she thought to herself as she stepped through it, pulling the stumbling priest behind her.

Conrad was up against the wall, pinned there by Adrian with a forearm against the priest's neck. They were midway through a screaming match - and one that Conrad was clearly losing.

"-the door open is suicide, you _foolish_ zealot!" Adrian snarled, fangs extended in his anger.

"He'll _die!"_ Conrad yelled in return, and went for the door again - but Adrian's fist met the wall next to the priest's head, and the impact cracked the stone. Clearly Conrad wanted to go after his friend - and Adrian knew that was a death sentence.

"He is already dead!" Adrian shouted.

Veil phased them both back into the real world with Gabriel behind her. She still held him by the wrist - and he had long since let go of her, unable to listen to her instructions through the pain and shock of what was running amok through his mortal body.

The two other men turned to see them - and Adrian's eyes were gold saucers as he clearly did not understand precisely how it was possible. Not that she was standing there - he had seen her pull that trick before. But that she was holding on to Gabriel. She puffed out freezing air through her mouth, and did an exaggerated shudder as her body tried to warm up. But what she was suffering was far easier than the man who staggered and tripped over the stone next to her, as his body returned to the living world.

Gabriel collapsed to his knees beside her, and let out a moan of pain as he doubled over, forehead almost touching the ground. He was speaking in Italian - and whatever he was mumbling through chattering teeth, it didn't sound good.

Adrian released Conrad, who ran to his friend's side, nearly shoving her into the wall in his eagerness to reach Gabriel. She stepped out of the way to make room for him, hands raised in a sarcastic 'don't mind me,' kind of way. He knelt down at his friend's side, hands on his shoulders. He began also speaking Italian - with a thick Irish accent, which sounded _ludicrous_ at best _._ If it weren't for the fact that Gabriel had just nearly died, she would have made mention of it.

Veil walked up to Adrian, who was watching her with a look of astonishment still. "What?" she asked.

"How..?"

"I can bring things with me, either direction. Otherwise I'd be naked every time I did that, now wouldn't I?" she finished with a wink. "Sorry to disappoint." Veil responded to everything with sarcasm or humor. It was the only way she survived through the drama and insanity that was her world.

"I-" he paused for a moment, then gathered his wits about him. "I see."

"What's happened to him?!" Conrad yelled, his hands still pressed against his friend's shoulders.

"He just went from the mortal world, to the spirit one, and back again," she said with a glance in their direction. "It's not a place for the living. It tried to suck his life out of him until he was dead. It tried to spread his _life_ over the whole of its universe. Like osmosis. Gas in a container, and whatever."

"What… where was…" Gabriel muttered, barely able to lift his head even, to look at her.

"What did you see? Where were you? The world that ghosts see. The world of everything that people can't normally see. The shit I see every goddamn day of my life."

"W-wh-why?" Gabriel stammered from the floor, still convulsing as his body tried to recover. A few more seconds, and he'd have died.

"Why what?" Veil replied with another laugh. He was asking her for explanations to things she lived every day - but knew just about as little as he did. "Why does it look like that? Because 'reasons' and 'physics,' I don't know."

"No. Why - Why… Save me," was all he managed to get out after much effort.

Veil crossed her arms over her chest, and looking down, realized she hadn't changed her shirt since 'Lyon' had put a few neat little holes into it. Oh well - at least it wasn't too revealing. She went back to the question at hand. "Because Gorgeous here had a good point earlier," she said with a motion of her head towards Adrian. "We need each other to do this, if we're going to succeed at all. Because there's an army of creatures out there about to kill millions of people, if we don't stop them. And mostly? Because I could. Because you don't just let somebody die when you could save them. Even if they've been a _complete_ asshole to you."

Conrad and Gabriel were both silent as she turned away from them and started up the stone stairs in the guard tower to the upper parapets. "We need to go. That little door to the tower isn't going to hold an army back - and they'll figure out where we went soon enough."

"She has a very valid observation," Adrian agreed, and began the climb up the stairs as well. He pointedly left the two priests to their own devices. They could follow or not, as they may. Conrad stood, and threw Gabriel's arm over his shoulder, lifting the man to his feet with an arm wrapped around his waist. They followed, slower, and in silence.

Veil knew she probably should have just let the priest roast to death. One less person to try and use her like a science experiment or to try and find a way to put her out of her misery once and for all. They _had_ wanted to leave her for 'dead,' after all. But it wouldn't have been right. And if she got right down to it, she couldn't blame the two priests for their opinion of her. They didn't know her. All that they really knew, was that she was death's closest thing to a 'daughter' and that she was the brainchild of a fallen angel. As far as they were concerned, she could have been an elaborate ploy to kill them both.

Veil quickly decided that the only thing worse than hiking was stairs. And the guard tower had a lot of them. It was about twenty feet in diameter, and the stone stairs ran its internal circumference all the way up from the floor to the top. She stopped counting somewhere around 'fifty six' stairs, when they had barely reached a quarter of the way up the structure.

"You did well to rescue him," Adrian said quietly from behind her on the stairs. "Even if they would not have done the same for you."

"I know, I know…" she said like she would to a nagging parent. "At least it _really sucks_ for living people to go through the spirit world. Can I at least enjoy that little bit of schadenfreude?"

"I suppose so." When she glanced back at him he was smirking once again at her. His droll sense of humor at work once again. When he continued to speak, his tone had shifted to a more thoughtful one. "What is it like, the spirit realm?"

"Colors like you know them are faded and almost gone - almost black and white. But everything else - spirits, or energy in general - are absolutely amazing. The stars are like a light show - swirling, amazing and just… Words won't do it justice. High definition color. It's really hard to describe." She looked back at him with a playful grin. "I can show you, if you're _really_ curious."

"... I think I would rather not."

Veil laughed - and found herself still grinning at his _incredibly_ dry sense of humor. It took her a long while to see it for what it was, but it was there. "Oh, I'm sure your half-vampire-self will take it a lot better than Father Popsicle back there."

"If you continue to leave me on my own to infer the meaning of your strange vocabulary, such as you've chosen, I am not responsible for any misunderstandings we may have in the future."

"Duly noted. But shit, but if I talk normally, you'll notice I've been flirting with you this _entire time,_ " she said sarcastically, still finding herself smiling and laughing at their new strange form of banter like some weird Laurel and Hardy routine.

"It hasn't been subtle," he fired back.

"Well, yes, I guess 'gorgeous' is a word you ye olde puritans knew back then no matter how uptight you were. I had to throw you an underhand pitch, didn't I? I can't go straight over your head the entire time. Where's the fun in that?" She whispered comically loud to him the next sentence with her hand cupped over her mouth as if to direct the sound only to him. "An underhand pitch is a way to throw a ball to a kid to make it easier to catch."

"I know that much," Adrian replied with a grumble. "I was once a child, you know."

"I don't imagine you just popped into the world looking like your full grown - _gorgeous -_ self," she said, drawing out the word for their mutual entertainment. "But I have a real hard time picturing you playing a round of toss with Daddy Dracula."

"Not with him, no," he said, with a smirk. "The castle is undoubtedly a strange existence for a child. But I had my playmates, nonetheless."

"There are so many weird mental images that come along with that, it's going to take me a good while to process them all," she said with a snicker, trying her best to mentally picture Little Kid Adrian and Dracula having 'father-son' bonding time. "Okay - so what _was_ the thing you two did together? Or was he an absentee father like mine?"

He was silent for so long she had to look back at him to make sure he was still there with her. His expression had shifted from idle playfulness to one almost of mourning. When he spoke, it had all the levity of a lead brick. "He read to me." The mood had become far more subdued - almost forlorn. She kicked herself for having accidentally lead them down this path.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"No," he cut her off. "I have precious few pleasant memories in this world. I will cherish the ones that I can. You have nothing for which to apologize."

But still, that was the end of their playful repartee. But at least it was fairly good timing, as they had finally reached the top of the stone staircase that wound up the guard tower. They were now standing in front of a door to the pathway atop the ramparts - and the very likely danger of being discovered, with Dracula's armies marching through the gate below them.

The two priests finally made it to the landing. As Adrian went to open the door, Gabriel spoke. "Wait, please."

A hand touched her arm, and she turned to look at the shivering man. He was still hanging off of Conrad who was supporting most of his weight. The man was pale, still trembling as if he had spent a day submerged in a frozen lake. Veil healed supernaturally fast, she reminded herself. He didn't. She felt bad for him - she knew how miserable it felt. Richard had the misfortune of suffering the same thing once before - and he would never let her do it again.

"Thank you," Gabriel said after mustering his strength to speak again. "You did not have to spare my life. Especially after we were so willing to cast you away."

Veil smiled to him gently, and casually shrugged - trying to play it off like no big thing. Faced with his sincere look, she almost felt shy. Almost. "Hey, it's fine. No harm, no foul. Turn the other cheek, and all that jazz."

Adrian watched the scene unfold silently like a man watching a tv show that was particularly engrossing. Watching it go by before him without any real investment in its outcome - and yet involved just the same. When they were finished, he turning back to the door. He pushed it open, and the four of them walked out onto the ramparts of the stone wall.

One look at what lay beyond that wall, and Veil felt her heart sink. So, she did the only thing she could think of. She swore.

"Well, shit."

* * *

Adrian stood and looked out at the full force of Dracula's army. It stretched on before them like a black cloud upon the land. Like an ocean of darkness - an ocean of a moving, thousand specs that stretched on through the trees beyond. It was an innumerable force, it seemed. The army was filing through the door through which they had just come - and likely several others in other directions. It would be impossible to stop them - if he had to wager a guess, their numbers were in the tens of thousands if not higher

Dread and grief together flooded his heart. Dread for all those that would die at the hands of these monsters. Grief for his father - that he had finally done that which had threatened to do, so many times… wage war upon the human race.

But why..? Why now? Why like _this?_ He had never waged a full scale _invasion._ Adrian's hands were clenched in fists at his sides as he looked out upon the hordes of monsters and demons at his father's command. There was no possible way to stop them all… only by killing Dracula, would this force be defeated.

"We must warn them," Adrian said quietly - unsure of how to accomplish the task, even as he said it. They would have to split up, at best.

"I'm on it," the blue-haired woman said from his side.

He glanced down at her quizzically to see that she had that strange little device out from earlier - and seemed to be typing into it frenetically with both hands. Modern technology, it seemed, could carry communications through the empty air like magic. He wondered idly what other marvels they had invented since last he woke.

Veil picked up the small contraption, holding it aloft, and pressed a button. A small, faint 'ka-click' noise came from the device.

"What are you doing?" he asked, finally.

"Texting Richard a picture of this. Maybe if he can see it, they'll listen and evacuate."

'Texting' a picture made absolutely _no_ sense to him in the slightest. Not even a remote possibility he could infer any meaning from it. So he just stared at her flatly, waiting for her to realize her nonsense.

"Oh. Uh. This sends information through the air like a radio signal to satellites floating around the earth. Then, it beams the information back down to whoever. You can call people, or you can type text messages. But then 'texting' evolved into sending people just about anything. Pictures, stupid cartoon icons… People are weird, I don't know," she said with a laugh as his expression didn't change. He still barely understood what she was talking about, but at least the purpose was clear - the message would be sent.

"Tell him - tell him to say to Cardinal Leone that the doors have opened. He'll know that's from us. He'll know what that means," Gabriel interjected. Veil typed that out into the little device and when she was finished, tucked it back into her pocket.

"Alright. They're warned. Now what the _actual fuck_ do we do about that-" she pointed out at the army, marching through the gate at their feet.

"Nothing," Adrian said as he turned from them and began to walk along the stone pathway at the top of the rampart. "We cannot stop them. Even if we were to destroy this gateway, they would simply go over, or around it. We can only stop them by destroying Dracula."

Veil jogged to catch up, he heard her footfalls behind him. "Wait, hold on. So we're just… going to go _around_ this mess to the castle? And do nothing?"

"Yes."

A hand on his arm stopped him, and she turned him to look at her. The priests were slower to follow. "Hold up. There has to be something we can do."

"We can destroy Dracula," Adrian insisted, his eyes narrowed. He did not want to waste time arguing about this. "That is all. We do not stand a chance against a force of that nature."

"Has this ever happened before? Nowhere in the journals does it ever say anything about Dracula doing anything like this-"

"No, he hasn't!" Adrian interrupted in a sharper tone than he had intended. Veil looked at him, surprised and confused at his sudden shift. Adrian realized he felt… betrayed by his father, somehow. That this was far beyond anything he had ever tried to do before. Yes, he had attacked villages, set out his monsters to take their prey or lay waste to a town or two. But not on _this scale_.

Grief, anger, betrayal - none of it made any sense to him. This was his father, Vlad Dracula. Of course he would someday make good on his word to exterminate _all_ of the human race _._ Was Adrian truly such a fool as to think that Vlad would never come to this? That he was only, what, playing at a game? Biding time until the end of the world? Because he had once loved a human, he would spare them?

Did he honestly believe there was any part of his father, left to be redeemed?

Adrian sighed heavily and brushed her hand off his arm as he walked away once more. He did not enjoy the confused, hurt expression she wore, her dark eyes searching his for an answer as to his sudden anger.

He made it four steps before he stopped. No. The poor girl had done nothing to deserve his anger. In fact, the opposite. His back to her, he turned his head askance. "Speak what you may of your cursed lineage… mine has just begun the extermination of your kind…"

* * *

They walked along the rampart for almost an hour before they found another guard tower with stairs down to the base. Gabriel had regained his strength, as much as he could, and was now walking under his own power.

None of them talked - walking in silence, as each of them tried to wrap their minds around the supernatural military might that was now marching out into an unsuspecting world. Veil hoped that guns and missiles could damage creatures like those. She hoped the remaining forces of the Order would have enough blessed objects to try and hold them at bay. She hoped - but she knew better.

The only hope they _had_ \- was getting to the castle and killing Dracula. Then, his armies would disappear. The death they'd leave in their wake would stay the same. There was no fixing that. But maybe, just maybe, they could limit the bodycount.

The only good news - was that they had _finally_ reached the castle. It stretched out above them, a horrifying construction of bizarre and impossible towers. The architecture defied all laws of physics - sections floating over areas where they had no business being. It looked more like a madman's dream of a castle, than a real structure.

The stairs leading to the door were as massive as the door itself. It was easily a hundred feet tall or more - intricately carved in brass, bronze and steel. The red moon flashed off of its surface as they approached it.

Veil laughed.

"What?" Adrian asked, wondering what the fiery little creature had found so funny this time.

"Seriously? Look at that." She pointed at the door. "Why does he need a door _that big?_ I know you have some seriously big-ass monsters in there, but something tells me they don't go walking out the front door on a regular basis."

Adrian paused, and seemed to debate the question for the first time in his life. "I honestly do not know."

"Maybe he's makin' up for something," Conrad added with a grin.

Adrian shook his head, bemused. "Come," he said as he walked towards the massive door.

"He's just going to let us in?" Gabriel asked in disbelief.

"He always has," Adrian responded as he raised his fist to pound on the door. It echoed, and the sound faded to nothing. The door did not move. "But much is different this time, it seems…"

Finally, the huge structure swung open - the enormous door gliding inwards without a sound. It seemed _wrong_ that anything of that size could move silently. It gave her the heebie jeebies - and walking through the massive archway into the castle didn't help.

The foyer was a matching scale to the door. It stretched upwards in an impossibly tall arch - the full height obscured in darkness. Electric lights blazed on sconces, mixed together with braziers of blazing fire at the bases of columns. It was a mix-and-match grab bag of high technology and dark ages science.

Every surface was carved, elegant - gothic and cruel. The whole place screamed of death, of chaos, of foreboding warnings. Adrian simply walked across the black and crimson carpet, not stopping for a moment to look at the place in awe as she and the two priests were doing.

 _This is where he was raised,_ she reminded himself. _This is his home…_

And he was here to kill his father, the only family he had left. The only connection to this world he had. The sudden realization broke Veil's heart. To live like that… no, not even. To _not_ live like that. To never have a reason to exist, except to come here, march through the castle killing everything he could, kill his own father, then go back to sleep? Again and again, around and around…

Veil had made friends. Richard would die before she did - that was a given. And he wouldn't be the first when he did. But maybe it was only because she didn't have a choice like he did. She couldn't just say 'screw it,' and lay down in a coffin for a hundred years without waking up. If she could… would she?

It was honestly a question she didn't have the answer to. Maybe. But maybe not. The world was a fascinating place - and even in a hundred years of her life, she hadn't begun to experience it all. To see it all. And her personal mission took her everywhere - from Tibet, to Taiwan, Russia and Canada, the depths of Mexico - hunting down cults in service to demons and fallen angels, and snuffing them out.

This was his purpose. This was the only purpose he had ever known. Five hundred years of existence, and only what, fifty? Sixty years lived?

Her train of thought was cut off as the gigantic door slammed shut behind them, the noise making all three humans duck reflexively - and Adrian kept walking, as if nothing had happened, stoic and determined.

But even he was forced to stop when an eerie, sharp laughter reverberated through the large and empty hall. That laugh was unmistakable. "Damn it," she swore as she watched Death emerge up through the floor like a ghost walking through a wall.

The spectre floated up over them, deadly scythe in his hand, the blade lowered. "You finally made it!" He said with another howl of laughter. "I very much have enjoyed watching your trek here, dear daughter of mine."

"Oh shove it already, will you?!" Veil pulled her weapons out of the sheaths on her calves, holding the heavy steel rods in either hand. The other three men readied themselves for a battle.

"Now now… don't get carried away. I have not come here for a fight. I have come to extend an offer, from my Master. He offers you sanctuary - to stay here, in his safety and protection, away from Asmodeus."

Veil laughed and shook her head. "Bullshit."

"I speak the truth. He invites you to call this place your home."

"And, what, swear fealty to him instead?"

"Of course."

"No. Absolutely no," Veil laughed. "Shit deal. I don't like being anybody's _pet._ Never again. I'm not going from being stuck with one douchebag only to give him up for another, different douchebag. And you knew I wasn't going to agree to that. So why bother?"

"A father can hope. I thought perhaps we would find a peaceful resolution. Ah well," he shrugged, as best as a floating skeleton _can_ shrug. "On that subject - I must say, Master Adrian - your choice of companions has somewhat improved as of late, at least. Although I cannot speak for the priests in your company. But they will die soon enough."

"Get to the point," Adrian replied.

" _Your_ father bids you welcome, and wishes you fair tidings. You will find the Castle fairly… underpopulated as of late." The meaning was clear - they were all out leading his armies. "If you are seeking to reconnect with old friends, you will find them burning this new world to the ground!" Death cackled.

With barely more than a running start, Adrian leapt through the air - silver sword slashing through Death. Or, rather, where the spectre had been a second prior. Black tattered fabric is all that met the end of his blade - and as he landed, he let it slide off the end of the sword and to the floor.

Adrian barely reacted to his sword missing the mark. He sheathed his sword once more, and turned to walk up the stairs and deeper into the castle without even so much as a glance in their direction. Veil felt like she'd spent the last day just trying to keep up with the fair-haired vampire. Conrad and Gabriel were quick to join Adrian on the stairs, and so she did as well.

"Why simply let us walk free?" Gabriel asked Adrian.

"For his own amusement," was the cold reply.

They began their trek through the castle. As Death had pointed out to them - it was remarkably… empty. Or at least, far more so than Veil and the priests had expected. But Adrian seemed unphased - walking through the castle in silence.

It had been another hour of this, walking about in absolute silence, before they all had to stop once more to take a breath.

They were in a long corridor - marked with statues and vases like a warped, corrupted version of the palace at Versailles. Gold, silver, intricate patterns etched in stone and gilt and inlaid marble stretched on in front of them. Moonlight streamed in through windows that were half-opened, letting their silky, gauzy curtains flutter in the breeze. The constant movement kept them all on guard. Any small waft of air could bring them an enemy hidden in the dancing curtains.

Gabriel had not been able to rest since he had taken an unexpected trip through the spirit world, and when he slumped down on the floor next to the wall - his face revealed exactly the kind of toll it had on him.

Conrad sat next to him, and the look of deep concern etched on the Irishman's face - one usually of contempt or playfulness - showed the extent to which he cared about his friend and brother-in-arms. They sat there and spoke quietly in Italian to each other - defaulting to Gabriel's native language, to make it easier on the man no doubt.

Veil didn't feel right, intruding on them. So she went to the other wall and put her bag down. She hadn't taken her coat off since the priest Lyon had stabbed her - and the blood-stained fabric was starting to get itchy. She took it off and dropped it on the floor next to her bag.

It took a moment to realize that Adrian was staring at her. She blinked, and couldn't figure out why. Sure, she was wearing a tank top - but that couldn't be what he - oh.

Veil looked down at her forearms - and saw the writing etched into her skin. A ceremonial magical circle took up almost the full width of her forearms on the inside - and lettering in enochian trailed down towards her wrists. "Right…"

She'd had them for so long, she honestly forgot that they were there. Written onto her skin like a tattoo in a faint grey tone. For the first time in a long time, she felt self-conscious about them, and reached down to grab her coat from the floor in order to hide them again.

Veil almost jumped in surprise as his hands caught her wrists to stop her. Gently - not forcibly at all - he held her still, so that he could examine the writing and the glyphs etched onto her. "More gifts from my miserable so-called abortion of a 'family,'" she found strength in her sarcasm, using it to mask what his unexpected touch set off in her. She wasn't even sure what it was - or what to name it.

"Do they hurt?"

"They did when I got them. Not a tattoo so much as more… a branding. But I'd been through worse - and have been through far worse since."

Usually she'd wrench her hands away, say something snippy about gawking at someone. But instead, she let him hold her wrists in his hands, palm up. "What do they mean?" he asked, quietly. His voice was soft, and the look on his face was unusually gentle. Deeply and sincerely interested in the writing on her skin.

"Protection spells. One to guard a spirit during passage in the other worlds, and the other to guard the body. Whatever good it does." More sarcasm. More bitterness. She flinched as the words left her mouth, realizing that she shouldn't be so bitey at the poor man. He didn't deserve it. "There are five others on my back - so seven in total. One for each of the passage rites of the body and soul through the gates of hell and earth. Each one named for an archangel and their paired fallen brother. My right arm reads 'To the gate ye pass,' and my left 'But shall always return.'"

"They are beautiful…" He released one of her wrists to run a gloved finger up along the forearm of her other arm - tracing the line of writing that stretched from her wrist up to the edge of the circle.

Veil felt her face flush at the contact - and was _incredibly_ happy that he was engrossed with her marked skin and not looking up at her face. She tried to desperately swallow down the butterflies that suddenly had grown wings and were making an escape attempt out of her chest. God damn it all - yes, fine, Adrian was _attractive._ Very attractive. She called him 'gorgeous' sarcastically, but it was true. She knew she found him ungodly beautiful - who wouldn't? But seriously, what the hell?! C'mon girl, get yourself together - she yelled at herself in her head, scolding every part of her for what his moment of rapt curiosity was doing to her.

Luckily, he was blissfully unaware of the turmoil that was going on in her mind as he traced the circle with his finger - honestly just making matters worse on her end.

"Thanks," she finally answered his comment - once she felt like she could do so without squeaking two octaves up like an idiot in grade school. "I absolutely hated them for a long time - I'd wrap them in bandages or never let them see the light of day. Long sleeves in hundred degree weather, and so on. Too many questions came with them. Too many bad memories. I forget they're there, now - to be honest. Now, at least, tattoos are more common and I just look more like a badass for having them," she said with a smirk, her playful sarcasm coming back to her like a familiar suit of armor.

He seemed to finally realize what he was doing. He quickly let go of her and almost recoiled from her as he seemed to get slapped in the face with the embarrassment of the situation. "Forgive me, I forget myself. I meant no offence."

Veil chuckled as he jumped back like a nervous fourteen year old at a school dance. "Don't worry about it. I think personal space invasion bothers you more than it does me," she tried to assure him, smiling at him with a shrug. Desperately she tried to downplay the butterflies still trying to escape her throat. She reached down and fished through her bag for another light jacket, and threw it on - tucking the bloodstained one away for now. "If you ask real nice," she said up him with a wink. "I'll show you the other five."

Where she got the nerve to say that, she'd never know. But when in doubt, talk first - sort it all out later. That was her general motivation in life. It was Adrian's turn to look away and put his back to her, looking out the window out into the night sky, refusing to make eye contact.

His hands clenched into fists for a moment, and then relaxed with the barest slump of his shoulders. Like he had come to accept, or had been reminded of, some heavy weight on him. What weight? What _for?_ Veil wanted nothing more than to turn him around, make him look at her, and demand an answer. What was the problem? What had just _happened?_ But no. The man had some kind of strange complex enough as it was - she'd just exacerbate the issue.

So, for now, she sat down on the ground to rest her aching feet, and took a moment of rest while she could.

* * *

What had he honestly been thinking? What had possessed him, to pour over the marks on her skin like they were the text of some great novel? Was she not a mystery to him, after all? An unraveling story before his eyes, with as many twists and turns as any tale worthy of ink?

To see the marks on her skin - to know that they were given to her by the monsters that created her - both fascinated him and angered him. To think that those who had pretended to care for her, would subject her to such things made his fists clench at his sides once more. Cruelty towards those whose trust you hold was, and ever shall be, unforgivable.

The little fireball had brushed off his moment of weakness like it had been nothing at all - and indeed, had sarcastically invited him to see the _other_ five. It had made something in him skip a beat as he looked away to hide his strife.

His was not a world of contact with others. His was a world of cold darkness - of solitude. His father had seen to that.

Adrian wanted nothing more than to put his fist through the glass of the window in front of him - and was not entirely sure where the angst that inspired the desire had come from. He let his shoulders slump slightly as he felt the familiar coldness of his existence weigh deeply upon him.

These were not concerns for him to spare a single thought. These were the concerns of living men. He had a duty to perform.

* * *

It was easily another half an hour of walking before they came across another creature inside the castle. And she wasn't honestly sure she was happy for it. Oh, sure, the boredom was getting to be _crushing_ with two priests who didn't want anything to do with her on a good day - and a walking marble statue with a 'I get taxed per word' outlook on life.

They had entered a circular room - large suits of armor on pedestals lining the walls in sconces, weapons - wicked, awful looking things with curved and serrated blades - held in their gauntleted hands. Sconces on the walls blazed with their exposed filament bulbs, casting the room in an unnatural glow.

But seeing the vampire that stood across the room from them, Veil suddenly really wished she had just stuck with the boredom.

There was something boyish about his features - something that should have been innocently beautiful. But it was the sick, sadistic look on his face that made her blood run cold. The twisted gleam in his eyes, and the curl to his grin as he stood there - in all the appearance of an angel.

In Veil's experience, all angels - fallen or not - spelled trouble.

He had chin-length, wavy blond hair that fell around his face in moppish curls. He wore a long coat of white, trimmed at the edges with marks of crimson. An apron was tied around his waist and tucked in around his collar. Looking like the medical uniform of a victorian doctor. His fingertips were stained black as if from soot - as were the edges of his long coat and the sleeves at his wrists.

When he parted his lips in a broader smile, and tilted his head back to let his hair fall out of his eyes - his lips were stained the same tone of black as his fingers.

Veil wasted on time in grabbing the iron rods from their sheaths at her calves and holding them aloft. She wanted to hit this thing already - and he hadn't even said a word. He felt _wrong._ Felt putrid.

"Octavian," Adrian 'greeted' in the coldest sense of the word, and pulled his sword from his sheath slowly.

"Master Adrian! How wonderful it is to see you again," he said with a low and exaggerated - and very likely facetious - bow. As he straightened up, his eyes - which looked orange from where she was standing - locked onto hers. It felt like being caught in the eyes of a wolf and she drew back reflexively. That made him smile only wider. "Master Dracula has sent me to entertain you and our… _guests,"_ he said the last word with an exhale that sounded sexual, and it made Veil almost blanch in response.

"Be on your guard," Adrian warned. "He is a warlock."

"And a total creep," she added.

"Have you two met?" Adrian said with a wry smile - never looking away from the enemy across the room from them.

"Don't need to. My 'pervert radar' is blaring."

"Can I shoot this one?" Conrad asked, the hammers of his guns clicking. "Or are we going to have to listen to him yap some more?"

Adrian's weight shifted just barely as he readied himself for battle. "By all means."

Gunfire rang out in the room as the battle began. Octavian shimmered out of existence and as he reappeared twenty feet from where he had started, had a dagger in his hand. He slit open his palm, and with a flick of his wrist - sent blood spattering on the floor. His blood was as black as oil - and as it touched the floor, the pools expanded… and began to bubble up and move.

Creatures, tentacled and shapeless, tangled forms began to rise from the oily substance. No - they _were_ the oily substance. The vampire Octavian's blood contained these monsters. Eyes, like those of a squid - empty and dead - fixed on the four of them.

For oily squid monsters, they moved faster than she was expecting. She had to phase into the spirit world to avoid a tentacle that had snapped straight through where she had been standing a second prior - cracking almost like a whip as it found empty air.

Adrian sliced through another tangled mass of slimy limbs as he made his way towards the vampire himself. Conrad was firing off bullets as fast as he could aim - and their holy and blessed metals were disintegrating the Lovecraftian nightmares on contact. But the four of them were only just keeping up with the rate at which the monsters were appearing.

Gabriel threw a bolt of fire at one of the monsters, and it burst into flame - but like the oil spill it resembled, it wouldn't _stop_ burning. He yelped in surprise as it kept lurching towards him, as if the fire had no effect on him. Instead, he summoned ice - and the bolts of pure cold that hit the monster froze it solid in its tracks.

Gabriel froze another, before he realized the first one was beginning to thaw and crack - as it struggled to be freed from its icy prison. "Veil!" he yelled - and she knew what he wanted her to do. She sent her soul through the creature before her body rushed to catch up - impacting it like a hammer hitting a marshmallow dipped in liquid nitrogen. It shattered into fractured pieces of the nightmare monster it was - tumbling to the ground like so much glass.

Now that they had a system, they worked in tandem to destroy the beasts. It gave her an opening to the vampire himself - and she took her opportunity when she saw it.

Veil dashed across the room - and sent her soul flying through Octavian. Her body followed suit - and he barely dodged her attack in time. As she reformed, she whirled - metal baton cracking him upside the head with a vicious force. A human would have been dead - skull cracked like a hard boiled egg.

But instead, he staggered forward, a hand on the back of his head. When he pulled it away - his dark-stained fingers were wet with black blood. Veil expected anger - but instead… he laughed. It was a jovial laugh that reeked of madness. He turned to look at her - orange eyes glinting in the light as he grinned. "Oh, well done!"

He gestured - a flick of a finger, and Veil heard Adrian shout 'look out!' But the warning came too late. A swirling circle appeared in the corner of her eye - and she turned to see a gateway had appeared there, opening like a blip on the wall and swirling larger. A portal. Black magic she had seen before.

Before she could duck out of the way, a hook on the end of a chain shot out from the swirling darkness - the chain wrapping around her neck and cinching tight before the hook found her flesh.

Veil cried out and phased her body out of the physical world to escape.

Or rather, she _tried._

Veil's eyes went wide as she struggled - her hands flying to the hook that was now dug into her skin - the chain that was so tight around her neck that it was cutting off her air. Now that she had a moment to see - the chain was golden, and there was faintly glowing writing etched upon it.

Oh god.

The chain was the same binding spell that Lyon had used.

She was trapped.

Adrian made a mad dash for her - sword slicing through the monsters as he sped to her rescue. But it was too late. The chain began to retract into the gaping, swirling hole - and she screamed as it dragged her by the neck through the darkness.

* * *

Adrian watched in horror as his friend was dragged through the portal that Octavian had summoned. "Veil!" he screamed, and with a growl, shoulder-checked the vampire into the wall. Octavian impacted it hard - his head bouncing off the wall, cracking the stone. But Octavian only laughed - no, giggled - at the pain.

Adrian reared his sword back to take off the vampire's head - and to hopefully free the girl. But something stopped his sword in mid-stroke.

"Forgive me, Master Adrian," a calm voice said behind him.

Adrian whirled to see Lyon standing there - golden claw closed around his blade - preventing him from his strike.

Hooks - serrated, barbed metal - dug into his skin as chains wrapped his limbs and dragged him through the hole at his feet that had not been there a moment before. He fell through the darkness with the image of Lyon's composure, and Octavian's mad laughter.


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter is rated M for extremely descriptive scenes of torture.**

 **I apparently invent horrible, horrible people, and Octavian is on that list. This was all written in one go.**

 **PLEASE skip this chapter if it could bother you! It exists to help build both characters. But, it's graphic, as I said. **

**The next chapter will be out in the next day or two as a much shorter end to this scene. Potentially tonight, depending on how it goes. At the top of that chapter, I'll sum this one up.**

* * *

Veil awoke slowly, feeling like she was hungover from some kind of bender she didn't remember having. She blearily lifted her head, trying to get the world to go back into focus like it should be.

"Good morning," she heard a voice coo into her ear, and she jolted - tried to strike at whatever was near her. But she couldn't move her arms. The source of the voice only laughed in response, and she heard them walking away from her.

Finally, bit by bit - things went back to where they should be, and she managed to get sight of what was happening. And she was very sorry she had. Veil couldn't move her arms, because they were strapped down. She couldn't move _at all_ for that exact reason. She was strapped to a metal table that was cranked at a reclined angle - maybe thirty degrees or so. Enough that she wasn't quite standing, but wasn't lying down either. Leather straps bound her upper arms to hooks - same with her ankles and wrists. When she struggled and thrashed - she could barely move.

She tried to phase her body out to the spirit world, to escape the binds that were keeping her stuck - but nothing happened. Looking down, she saw why. Both her wrists were wrapped in a thin gold chain several times - that would have almost looked like decorative jewelry if she didn't know what they were for. They were enchanted with the same kind of spell that he had used before - to keep her soul and body bound together.

Lyon had said they were working on a more 'tenable solution' to keep her contained. This must be it.

Fear welled in her stomach as she realized that under no uncertain terms… she was trapped.

As she looked up from her own predicament, she realized that it was worse than she had thought. She was trapped in what looked like a sick cross between a boudoir and a _torture chamber._ A mix of stone, metal implements, and luxury. The room was lit by oil lamps that dotted the ceiling and walls - casting the room in a flickering, red glow. Casting dramatic shadows against every surface that she knew was very much the point of it all.

Every choice in this place had been made carefully and on purpose. Great thought had been put into how the room was laid out - how its 'guests' would interpret the space.

The weirdest feature of the room was a large pit off to one wall - built into the floor like some sicko's idea of an in-ground hot tub. But it was boiling with a liquid that was _very_ much not water. She didn't want to know what it was - and really wasn't going to ask to find out.

Veil didn't know if she felt better or worse at the fact that she wasn't here alone. And she didn't mean Octavian - the vampire warlock with the black blood who was standing at a wooden desk, sorting through items she was afraid to know anything about. No. It was Adrian that she felt torn over.

He was standing - or, more correctly - _hanging_ by one wall. He was strung up between two posts - chains running from them and to where they attached to what looked like oversized fish hooks. Barbed, sharp and deadly looking things, that ran through muscle and flesh with no care for the damage they caused. Tearing and pulling whatever was in the way.

He was shirtless, and that allowed a greater contrast against his pale skin for the crimson blood that ran from the wounds and down his legs to the floor at his feet. He was slumped, his full weight pulling against the hooks that kept him standing - digging deeper into his skin. They were in his arms, his sides, his legs, his chest, his back. One chain wrapped around his neck several times before it dug into the skin at the base of his shoulder. He was unconscious. Maybe he was dead - she didn't know how to tell the difference.

Octavian turned around to face her finally, and he was wearing a simple white shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, tucked into black pants. He looked like he should be starring in some teen heartthrob movie, not walking up to her with a pair of… fuck. A pair of pliers and a serrated knife. "You're going to stain that shirt of yours, Pretty Boy," she snapped at him. Fear never got the best of her before - and it wasn't going to start now.

He laughed, and smiled at her - and it could have been the smile of a cherub, so pure it looked. But the twisted glow behind his eyes was enough to break the facade. "Oh, darling, that's very much the point."

Octavian walked up to her, and put the implements down on a small table next to her - a metal one, judging by the clink. He rolled it closer to her, and only once he had them placed _just so -_ did he look back up to her, a curious tilt of his head as he watched her. Like someone would watch a butterfly under a jar that they were suffocating to death to add to their collection.

Her jaw clenched as she glared a hole back into him.

"Ooh, such _contempt_ … such fire…" he reached his hands up to touch her, and she thrashed against the restraints holding her in place. Yanking on them, trying hopelessly to free herself. Once more she tried to phase into the spirit world - but the chains around her wrists kept her soul and body from separating. He only laughed quietly. "Oh shush now..." he settled his hands against her shoulders - and only then did she realize he had taken off her coat, leaving her in just her thin strapped tank top, pants and undergarments. He had taken off her knee-high boots and socks, as well. At least the asshole hadn't stripped her naked. "We haven't even begun," he finished with a gleeful smile.

His touch was cold as he stepped in close to her, leaning against her and the table as he leaned his head in towards her cheek. His breath was cool against her as she turned her head away. She could feel the length of his body against hers, as he let his weight settle against hers. He whispered into her ear. "We absolutely _must_ wait for Master Adrian to wake first. We will want him to watch every blessed second of our time together."

"Let me go, you _sick fuck_ -" she spat and tried to whack her head against his - and he only pulled back enough to be out of her range and laughed once more.

"You have no idea how right you are, my lovely little darling," he said, features still painted with a gleeful smile. She tried to fight out of his grasp as he stroked his thumb along her jawline. "What fun we'll have…"

A groan by the wall, and a hiss of pain, signaled Adrian was starting to come to. "Ah!" Octavian said with an excited smile - a kid at his birthday party. "The guest of honor awakens!"

He pushed off of her and the semi-recumbent table she was attached to, and she turned her head to watch him approach Adrian as he struggled to understand what was happening through the fog as it was clearing.

"There you are. I thought perhaps you had become more fragile in your old age," Octavian teased as he walked up to the strung-up vampire. Adrian was pushing his weight back onto his feet - removing some of the pressure on the hooks that held his arms stretched out beside him - and kept him in place.

Adrian's hair obscured his features as he hissed in pain and anger, fangs extended.

"Oooh my, what a face…" Octavian purred as he ran his black-stained fingertips through the other man's hair, slowly stroking it back and away from Adrian's strained expression.

"Do not touch me, _monster,"_ Adrian growled through clenched teeth. He tried to step forward - tried to wrench free from the hooks and the chains - but only hissed louder in pain as the serrated metal dug deeper into muscle, tendon and organs alike in their uncaring task of holding him still.

"Ah ah!" Octavian scolded with a wave of his finger. "No ruining our fun. The show hasn't even _started_ yet."

"What are you blathering about?!" Adrian snarled, and cringed as one of the hooks dug deeper into his side as he tried to fully stand up. His skin was paler than usual - and the blood at his feet was the reason why. He had bled significantly - and his wrenching on the wounds was only making it worse. Fresh blood poured down the lines on his body as he opened them anew.

Octavian clasped Adrian's chin in his hand and stood aside as he forcibly lifted Adrian's head to look across the room - to where she was strapped to the table. Adrian snarled in rage and yanked against the chains that held him in place - and howled in pain as they found new places to dig, new nerves on which to wreak havoc.

"Adrian, don't-" Veil insisted from where she was, pulling against her own restraints in an attempt to get herself free. "This assclown can't do _shit_ to me. Not really. Don't worry."

"Ah, therein lies our little game!" Octavian exclaimed, and let his fingers trail slowly down Adrian's neck and across his collarbone. He then began to trail his black-stained fingertips down across Adrian's chest, drifting lower. The son of Dracula's skin rippled as it tightened in hatred under the other man's touch.

The cherub-faced vampire put his head closer to Adrian's shoulder, letting it rest there like a lover's, and let his fingers trace back up his chest to run slow circles under the hollow of Adrian's throat. "How much I would love to simply spend time here with you, Master 'Alucard,'" he said Adrian's moniker with no small amount of sarcasm. "But I have been forbidden from such things. No. Instead, I have been tasked with _breaking_ one of you…"

"Break..? Which one?" Adrian snarled.

"One or the other. It matters not whom. Whomever shatters first at my hand. Whomever I break… I get to _keep,_ " Octavian chuckled. "And I honestly do not know which I'd prefer!" His voice was one of madness - of a sick and twisted childlike innocence perverted to the darkest form.

Octavian turned his back to Adrian to lean up against the taller man who twitched and tried to recoil in revulsion - and slung an arm around behind Adrian's neck. He was now lounging against the bleeding vampire luxuriously, stretching like a cat. "You, Master Adrian… have your own wonderful _allure…_ " his orange eyes caught hers across the room, and Veil felt the same sick dread as she had during their fight. "But her… oh… oh what a wonderful thing she is…"

He pushed off of Adrian then, and crossed the room slowly. "When I learned of you - I _begged_ Master Dracula to let me have you. I plead on both knees - 'oh, please, please, let me have her,' I said. 'Let me _break_ her,' I cried," he carried on is sick narration as he reached her - and she heard the scrape of metal on metal as he lifted his tools from the tray at the side of the table with one hand.

If Veil could have sunk into the very floor to escape him, she would have. She struggled, pulling against the leather straps with a frustrated growl as he pressed his lower body up against hers.

"'What an angel has been sent to Earth for me,' I said to Master Dracula - 'A playmate that not only _cannot_ die - but one that can die, again, and again, and again? What glorious creature have you made, Death! Oh, let me have her… at least for a little while…'" Octavian ran his free hand slowly along her collarbone - tracing it with his black stained fingertips as he let his hand wander along her skin.

"You are seriously _fucked in the gourd,_ you know that DiCaprio?!" Veil glared at him - but couldn't help but feel the dread and the fear welling up inside of her.

"Does she always speak nonsense?" Octavian asked with a glance over to Adrian, who didn't answer - save for a hiss of pain with bared fangs. "Mmh, no matter." He turned his attention back to her, and she felt his hand wander up her neck. "Tell me, Adrian - have you ever watched another man make love?"

Veil laughed - and that caught Octavian by surprise. "What're you asking, if he's watched porn or been to an orgy? Who the fuck _are you?!_ "

His orange eyes narrowed at the interruption. His exploratory touching turned rough suddenly as she tried to turn her head away from him. He grasped her chin - his thumb on the other side of her jaw stopped her - holding her head still.

"It is a visceral experience in every sense of the word. Truly - to watch two others embrace each other is to almost feel it yourself. The mind almost tricks the body into sharing their pleasure with its host. To us vampires, my little beautiful angel… watching the _agony_ of another is identical to that of witnessing their ecstacy! Watching another _bleed_ \- to spill their life upon the thirsty tongue of a beast… one cannot help but imagine the _taste of it yourself…_ "

Veil was without words as he spoke, leaning his face closer to hers, his cold breath on her face again as his lips barely grazed her skin. "That is our game. Either I will break _you,_ beautiful angel… Or he gives in to the hunger that threatens to consume him even now. If he tastes your blood - he is nothing but the scum that he claims to be so far risen above. Look at him-" he forced her to turn her head towards Adrian. "Do you see him? Drained, and empty - unable to heal his wounds..? How long has it been since he has fed? Centuries, perhaps? A shadow of his former glorious self…"

He raised his other hand, and she let out a gasp as she felt the point of a blade run along her shoulder. He let out a low chuckle into her ear as she did. "In the days of yore, when he did not _fight_ against his nature so needlessly, he could have bested us all… He could have ruled the world - as he comprises the best of _both_ vampire and humankind. Yet he chose to embrace _neither_. He could have had any and all that he desired. But he shunned his very self - shunned what it is to be a human, a _vampire -_ let alone the son of a _demigod._ "

The tip of the blade ran up her neck slowly. "So I will delight in what I will do to you, little angel… I will delight in it as if I were able to satiate _all_ my hungers with you both. But," he sighed, forlornly. "That is not to be, you needn't worry. I have been given strict rules about what parts of you both I may defile."

Veil let out a growl in her throat as she felt Octavian run his tongue up her cheek by her ear. "A shame, really," he whispered to her. "Isn't he just… divine…?"

"Will you just kill me already, so I don't have to listen to your _fucking talking?!"_ she shouted at him, and turned her head to glare at him.

Octavian laughed loudly, leaning back from her barely and turning his head as he did. "As you wish, my lady."

Another scrape of metal on metal as he picked up the pliers. "Now be a good girl… won't you?"

* * *

Adrian could only watch, nearly blinded by pain, as Veil struggled. Thrashed her head from side to side as Octavian went to work. He forced her mouth open, and she let out an angry and frightened 'mmnrh!' noise as he forced the pliers between her lips.

"Stop!" Adrian snarled and pulled against the chains again - but his vision flashed to white as they dug deeper into his flesh, threatening to black out his world entirely if he was not careful. When he could see again - he had her tongue in the vice grip, and had begun… sawing… her tongue off… with the serrated knife.

" _No!_ " Adrian cried as he watched her eyes clench tight - and listened to her helplessly scream as Octavian did his deed.

Blood ran down her chin as he finished. He tossed the organ aside and let it hit the floor next to him - abandoned and uninteresting. It was the damage that he was intent upon. He clasped his hand over her mouth - clamping it shut with both hands as he spoke to her quietly - hushed words that Adrian could barely catch over her muffled cries of agony.

"It's alright, let it happen… let it come. It'll be alright," Octavian was trying to soothe her like a frightened beast - like an injured horse about to be put down. Veil coughed, and blood oozed out of her nose as she was now choking on the blood that was filling her mouth and throat. He was holding her mouth shut and forcing her to suffocate on her own essence.

"That's it, that's it now…" he cooed to her, leaning her body up against hers as she twitched, struggling for air - her eyes going wide. "God, _yes,_ " Octavian moaned sensually as he pressed up against her - watching her eyes begin to go sightless, glassy and dim.

Her twitching was slowing, reaching death. Octavian pressed up harder against her, moaning louder as he felt her die underneath him, felt her spasms cease. He pulled in a wavering breath, and on the exhale, spoke once more. "Was it good for you too..?" Octavian asked him as he glanced through his blond curls at him. "No?" He pouted, seeing Adrian's vicious glare. "Ah well, there's still time."

Adrian's breath was quickened, his heart pounding. For more reasons that one. Adrenaline coursed through his body with the desperate need to murder Octavian for what he had done. But the smell of Veils' death was starting to worm its way into his blood-starved mind.

Octavian released his hands from clamping her mouth shut, and reached down to pick up a damp towel. He cleaned her up, carefully - almost lovingly, wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth and where it had spilled. "There… Good as new."

He put the wet cloth down, and leaned in closer to her - watching her intently - wanting to witness the very moment she came back to life. His lips were parted, and his hand was cradling her face gently, keeping it turned towards him and from hanging limply away from him in death.

As she finally gasped air into her lungs - so did he. Breathing in the same time she did, his face alight with joy. As she exhaled, her breath was cold mist against the warmer air, her body convulsing as it tried to heat itself back up.

"How… absolutely _wonderful-"_ Octavian purred, and stroked her dark blue hair away from her face with a gentle smile. "That is even better than I ever could have hoped…"

"Fuck… you… you motherfucking _piece of shit-_ " Veil snarled at him, before she was cut off by a hand over her mouth.

"Language, little angel. Or are you ready to go again so soon?" he grinned. "I am, if you are…" Veil just glared at him silently. He released his grip on her and smiled, and turned to look down at the floor where he had thrown her tongue when he had cut it out of her mouth. It was gone. "Huh. Now that begs a wonderful question worth answering..."

Adrian felt no small measure of dread as Octavian's face bloomed into a vicious, cruel smile.

"Where do her limbs go, if I cut them off?" Octavian was speaking to Adrian now. "Shall we find out, old boy?"

* * *

"Don't you dare-" Veil half-screamed as she thrashed violently against her restraints. Octavian was kneeling on the floor - and had begun rolling up her black jeans on her left leg.

"Leave her be, Octavian!" Adrian shouted. That got the other vampire's attention, and he turned to face him from where he knelt.

"You can end this, Master Adrian. Drink her blood, drain her dry - and this is all over with. Your suffering and hers - done. I release you both, and I walk away. Master's orders."

"Never," Adrian snarled through clenched teeth, fangs still fully extended.

"So selfish!" Octavian put a hand to his chest, in feigned insult. "Truly," Octavian turned his attention back to her, and resumed rolling up her jeans up over her knee. "What a curr you travel with," he commented to her as he stood up. "He would rather see you die in the worst possible ways - again and again, than to simply _drink_ your blood. Which is, I would like to point out, entirely _painless._ In fact-" Octavian leaned into her as she turned her face away from him again. "-most sensual for both parties."

"Fuck off," Veil glared angrily at the monster as he shrugged dismissively and walked to a metal table. When he picked up a bone saw, she struggled anew. "Don't, don't-" she stammered, fear overtaking her.

"If he drinks your blood, you both go free. Now this is your half of the deal. Submit to me, and he dies painlessly," Octavian said to her with a faint tilt of his head. "Call me your master - tell me you belong to me - and I will be kind to you. I can be gentle, my angel… I can make your repeated deaths full of more pleasure and transcendent ecstacy than you could think imaginable…"

His fingers spread up along her face as he pressed himself against her restrained body once more- fingers running up her face and into her hair. As she turned her face away from him, he pulled it back. "You can end this, same as he."

"I'll tell you what," she said through clenched teeth. Veil wasn't sure which she hated more - him for his violence, or what he was suggesting she do. She was _nobody's pet_ anymore. Not now, not ever again. "Let me take that bone saw and _shove it up your lily-white ass_ and you have a deal."

Octavian smiled, seemingly overjoyed with her spirit. "I was hoping you'd say no."

He knelt down at her feet, and she felt the tips of the blade touch her leg, just below her knee. Veil heard someone screaming as the saw began its job - and it took her a long time to realize that the noise was hers.

* * *

Adrian's breath was racing, his heart pounding in his ears as he watched Octavian remove half of Veil's leg, just below the knee. She had gone into shock - her eyes wide, gasping for air - unresponsive. She had stopped screaming.

Blood was pouring down the table as he went about his task - eventually snapping it free, trimming the remaining pieces of flesh, and undoing the leather restraints that kept the severed limb stuck to the table.

He stood up - and brushed his bloodstained hands down his white shirt, which was now shades of wet crimson from his work. He walked to the side of the table, and kicked a lever at the bottom, and with a metallic ratcheting noise, the table pivoted from its center and was now flat. Another kick to lock it into place, and he put her severed leg next to where it should have been attached.

Blood grooves in the table ran down to the base - where it was steadily pouring into a copper basin. It quickly overflowed, and poured onto the stones, filling the grout and running towards a drain in the center of the room that was between where he hung, and Veil's lifeless body. The smell of her blood was overwhelming - filling the air like a fog as she bled out her life onto the basin and the floor around it.

Octavian was now standing at the head of the table, looking at her upside down, lovingly stroking her cheek with the knuckles of one hand. "I see - it takes her longer to return, perhaps determined by her manner of death. Or perhaps how taxing her day has been? Poor angel." Octavian turned to make eye contact with him once more. "The deal still stands. Bite her - feed from her, in any way you imagine… Lay with her, if you so desire. But drain her dry - kill her but _once_ to feed. And you both go free. Her suffering, and yours - ended."

"No," Adrian snarled through clenched teeth once more.

"Are you daft?!" Octavian sighed heavily in frustration, and shook his head, as if dealing with a child. "Do you see what happens to her?! What I will continue to do to her?! You spare her _nothing_ by denying yourself. Indeed, you pay her far worse a fate. Do you understand that?!"

Adrian was silent, glaring a hole into the man across the room from him.

"Answer me, or I slice her head off at the neck next, to learn what happens then. Do you understand that it is a selfish act - that it is only _your_ pride that you protect in your stubbornness?!"

Adrian's fists clenched where they were suspended in the air by hooks and chains. "... Yes."

"Good! Progress!" Octavian slapped the table in front of him to accentuate the point. "And yet, you still refuse."

"... I still refuse."

"Fine. So be it. Perhaps her suffering, or your hunger, are not yet so complete. I-" he stopped, as something in front of him caught his attention. "Oh! Will you look at that?"

It seemed that Octavian now had the answer to his question. The severed limb seemed to… dissolve. Disintegrate like so much ash into dust. He reached out to touch the table where it was - and came away with gray soot on his fingers, which he rubbed between his thumb and forefinger before flicking it away. "Fascinating…"

Veil's back arched against the restraints that held her still - pulling in a gasp as her eyes flew open - tears stinging them and running down her cheeks as a wordless, silent scream left her lungs - filled with freezing cold air. Her lips were tinged blue from the bloodloss.

Octavian stood aside as if to let Adrian watch as well, as her leg… stitched itself back together. First bone grew, bit by bit from the stump, rebuilding itself from scratch. Then tendon, then muscle, veins, nerves - then skin - and from her silent sobs of pain, Adrian knew she could feel every moment of it. Every second of it was a fresh hell upon her.

When it finally finished, she was gasping for air, her breaths unsteady and uneven as tears streamed down her face. He had not known her as one to cry - and these were not tears of sorrow. These were tears of agony.

Adrian's heart was torn into pieces as he watched her suffer. Watched her writhe in pain that she did not deserve. He wanted to free her - wanted to save her. But he could not break his vow. He could not feed on her blood. He would not let that darkness in his soul rise once more.

He yanked on the chains that dug into his flesh and cried out in turn as the hooks dug deeper trenches into his skin. If he tore himself free, he would die - there was no question in that. And then, he would be useless to her.

So instead, he had to watch as she felt every nerve come back to life in her freezing cold body.

She jolted, and made her first audible noise as Octavian leaned down, and placed a kiss against her newly remade leg, just below where he had cut it free. She let out a strangled cry of rage and tried to kick him with the leg - only to have him grasp it and fasten her ankle back into the restraint with a chuckle.

"I'm going to _kill you!"_ Veil screamed, thrashing violently against the restraints. "I'm going to rip your arms off, _do you hear me?!_ I'm going to-" her eyes rolled into her head, as she over exerted herself too soon after returning from the dead, and she fell back against the table, unconscious.

* * *

Veil must have blacked out. For how long, she couldn't say. Everything just kind of popped back into focus all at once, and she lifted her head - but realized something hurt… _very badly._ Something felt very wrong. So she froze, locked solid, while she tried to figure out what it was.

Something was sticking out of her chest. Something that very much didn't belong there.

She had… she had… she didn't even know _what it was,_ protruding out from her chest. It hurt to breathe. Hurt to think.

Octavian was standing in front of her then - the table she was on had been pivoted back up to put her vertical. He smiled at her, and said something she couldn't quite hear. He reached forward, and twisted… a valve… on the piece of thin piping that was sticking out from a bleeding hole in her chest. He held up a chalice under the end of the pipe, and she watched as blood flowed from the end of the tube and into the cup.

A spigot.

It was a _spigot._

Her world faded out once more as shock wracked her body, and ended her consciousness. She welcomed it with open arms.

* * *

"Poor thing… needs her rest," Octavian smiled with a shake of his head, and turned his attention to Adrian.

Adrian yanked on the chains - although he expected no different response, he felt the need to try. Octavian walked up to him with the chalice full of hot blood - _her_ hot blood, and the smell overwhelmed him.

The hunger gripped at him like jagged, pointed claws - clenched his mind in its tangled grasp to keep him from thinking straight. He could only hear her heart, pounding its last beats in her chest. He could smell her death - her blood - her _hot_ blood in the chalice held before him.

If he drank from it - he'd be free. Free from these chains, free from Octavian - free from all of it. If he drank, he could save her.

If he drank, he would break a vow. He would fall into the darkness in his heart. In his veins.

He reared his head back and away from the smell of the blood - but his lips were drawn back from his pointed, dangerous fangs - that part of him that was screaming to be fed. Screaming to be heard.

"You are a _fool,_ " Octavian snapped bitterly as he yanked Adrian's head to face him, roughly by the hair. "You have all you could ever desire before your eyes - and you turn it away for what?! What foolish sentiment do you think you salvage, denying yourself the chance to _live?!_ Even I have more meaning in my shattered, selfish existence than you do, you _pathetic_ excuse for a man! You are every bit to blame for her suffering as I am!"

Octavian put his fingers into the cup of blood, and smeared them across Adrian's lower lip. He recoiled and howled in anger and pain, struggling - thrashing his head, trying to break free. Not of the chains, but of the hold that the beast inside of him had taken purchase.

"If the pieces I removed from her did not vanish to ash, I would ask you if you would like a piece of her flesh - one of her magical circles, perhaps - to remember her by? Perhaps you could frame it. Or turn it into a keepsake. You seemed so _taken by them_ earlier."

Adrian spat to the floor, but still the smell of her blood was in his nostrils - in his mind, begging. Pleading. Crying for freedom. Drink her. Taste her. Take her. Free yourself, free you both. Consume her.

Adrian slumped against the chains once more, lowering his head with a small groan - tired. But not defeated. "No."

"Very well!" Octavian sighed and sipped from the chalice of Veil's blood. "I suppose we will have to get a little more inventive."

* * *

Veil awoke, slowly - and for a long moment didn't remember what had happened. But it rushed back to her all at once, and her eyes flew open as she prayed and wished that the nightmare was over.

"Mmhn, good morning," a voice that reeked of madness greeted her cheerfully - although it sounded strange - like he was… chewing. "Excuse me. It is rude to speak with one's mouth full."

She turned her head towards the voice - and saw Octavian had pulled up a chair to the table that she was strapped to - and had a silver plate laid out in front of him, fork and knife working away at a hunk of raw… oh please, let it be steak. Please, please, let it be steak - sitting in a pool of blood.

Veil looked down at herself in horror - looking for the chunk of flesh cut free - but he only chuckled. "Oh do not worry - it isn't _yours,"_ he tried to console her. "I would hate it to turn to ash in my mouth, after all. Wonderful trick, that is, by the by."

Veil turned her head back to him - shock, pain, horror, and _hatred_ in equal parts fighting for supremacy. He saw the look on her face and smiled. "It's not yours, as I said. It's _his-_ " he pointed with his knife over her, and to where Adrian was strung up near the other wall. He went back to cutting at the hunk of flesh with fork and knife, and popped another piece of the raw meat into his mouth, smiling casually as he chewed on it.

She wanted to throw up.

She didn't want to look.

But like a train wreck, she had to. Feeling the need to share in her friend's pain, as he had in hers - she looked towards Adrian, and let out a strangled noise in her throat as she saw what the monster Octavian had done.

A section of Adrian's left side had been removed. The lower ribs were exposed through a rectangular section of skin that had been carefully cut away. He had carved him like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Adrian was awake - but his vision was hazy as he lifted his head to look at her, gold eyes barely visible through a white cloud that seemed to have formed over his eyes. His skin was sunken, hollow - like someone suffering from severe emaciation. His skin was not only just pale - not only white, but grey - and his lips, which had little color to begin with, now seemed chapped and drained. They were pulled away from his teeth - fangs still extended, like a dying man. And for all intents and purposes - he _was_ dying.

There was no more blood for him to lose, she realized.

"Stop it," she plead, turning to look back at Octavian, feeling tears sting her eyes again - not for her. But for Adrian. "Please… not to him. Do what you want to me."

"What's this?" Octavian looked up from his meal, and dabbed at his lips with his cloth napkin, which came back stained ever so slightly pink from the blood. "What did you say?"

"Do what you want to me, just let him go…"

Octavian studied her, and stood up from his chair. He moved the plate away, setting it aside, and returned to her a moment later. With a kick to some kind of mechanism in the table, he grasped the edge and lifted it - forcing her back upright with a loud _clack-clack-clack_ as it ratcheted into place.

He had lifted the table so that she didn't have to twist her head so hard to see Adrian, now a barely living corpse, hanging from a wall - cut at like a piece of meat in a butchers shop.

"Do you _care_ for him, angel of mine?" his hand was against her cheek now, blackened-tipped thumb gently stroking her cheek. He was fascinated - surprised, intrigued. "You needn't hide your answer from me. I do not judge love in any form it may take, believe me."

"Just let him go," she repeated, ignoring his question.

"Do you submit to me, then?" he asked.

"Release him, and you can do whatever you want to me."

"I can do that already, angel," Octavian pointed out, smiling faintly. He looked excited - like a child about to blow out the candles of a cake he was about to devour. "Give me something I do not already have. Submit, and his death will be kind and peaceful. He will have the true rest he seeks. Your life will be a blessing under my care, I swear it to you. Never again will anyone bring you pain, lest you ask for it."

Part of her was tempted, of course. But it was a small part, tamped down violently by her rage, her anger - and her devotion to _never_ bowing before another person again in her life. Resolutely, she leaned her head forward - straining to get closer to him, her expression a carefully made one of defeat, of sadness. He, smiling, thinking she was going to whisper to him the words he longed to hear, leaned in closer to her.

So she bit off a chunk of his ear.

Octavian howled in pain as he gripped the side of his head and staggered backwards. Veil spit out the chunk of flesh to the ground, and laughed at him. "You really think I'd bow down to the likes of _you?!_ I was made by a fallen angel - a fucking _fallen archangel_ \- and I killed him! Do you think you're even _worthy of my time?!_ "

Octavian snarled in rage, and grabbing the edge of one of his metal tables, flipped it over and hurled it against the wall - sending his implements of torture scattering about like children's toys. He turned to her - face twisted in fury. Blood was seeping from his ear - but it was already beginning to mend itself. It was the _insult_ that he hated, more than the injury.

"Very well!" Octavian picked up one of her metal batons from a nearby table - and walked to the vat of bubbling liquid in the floor. "Do you see this?! This is how I dispose of my more _petulant_ toys!" He dipped the metal rod halfway into the liquid from a crouch, and when he lifted it back up a moment later - it was oozing, dissolved like sugar into boiling water. "Let us see how your immortality fares against _this,_ shall we?!"

Octavian flicked his wrist - and she felt the leather straps holding her in place let loose. She tumbled to the floor - and struggled to stand, hoping to make a break for freedom. But she was too tired - too beaten to move fast enough. A black chain snapped around her wrists - tying them together. They were still bound with the golden chains that were keeping her soul trapped her body - that kept her trapped in this nightmare.

Veil was dragged along the floor for a few feet before she managed to stagger to standing - just in time for her to come face to face with Octavian, whose hand snapped around her throat. His other hand was tangled in the chain that had bound up her wrists a moment prior.

"Foolish little thing," he said, laughingly with bared fangs. "You could have known _bliss_ under me! But now… you will know _nothing at all!"_

He threw her - and she saw the pool of boiling acid come towards her face - she felt liquid splash against her. Felt a flash of burning. And then felt nothing at all.

* * *

Adrian let out a pained moan - all that he could muster in his current state - as he watched Veil drop beneath the level of the boiling liquid. Octavian stepped aside as it splashed up - and watched as a form underneath the surface thrashed once - twice - and then was still.

The black chain in his hand went slack, and he lifted it - and nothing was attached to the end but dripping metal. Iron and steel melted as if it were nothing. Bone and muscle would stand no match against it.

Veil was gone.

Adrian lowered his head, pain stabbing at his heart in a way he did not think was possible anymore. Clenching his eyes shut, he wished his friend peace, and knew that he would be joining her soon after.

Even the care of a cleric would likely not save him now. Never had he been pushed this close to the brink of death - been bled so dry that not a drop ran through his body.

A hand cruelly grasped his chin, and wrenched his head up. Octavian was not done, it seemed. "And with her death, comes yours, Master Adrian. A shame Dracula did not wish to do this deed himself!"

Octavian dropped Adrian's head, as he walked to a nearby table to leaf through Adrian's own belongings. He picked up his long, silver sword - and pulled it from the sheath. "I think murdering you with your own blade sounds apropo, don't you think?"

Octavian walked back towards him again, young features twisted in cruelty. "A shame, such a shame… But Master Dracula was clear. If I could not break one of you - I was to kill you _both._ She _had_ to go and set off my temper," he sighed in regret. "Ah well. Roses of so many thorns cannot be plucked."

Adrian would meet his end with open eyes. He would not die a coward. He pushed himself weakly up onto his feet once more - struggling to gain enough strength to stand.

Octavian placed the tip of Adrian's silver sword against his neck, and pulled back to drive it through him - to end Adrian's life in one final gesture.

Octavian made a small choking noise - and Adrian watched as his right eye rolled back, independent from the other. A metal rod had been rammed through his head from the back to the front - severing the muscle that controlled his eye.

Before the monstrous vampire could react - two hands grasped his short, blond hair and dragged Octavian, staggering and injured - across the floor of his own room. And hurtled him into the vat of acid at the other side.

Octavian screamed - thrashed - sunk beneath the level of the liquid and…. Was silent.

It had taken a great amount of effort for Adrian not to react as Veil appeared behind Octavian. Stepping in from the spirit world like he had seen her do before. Fading in like a dream, or a fog. She was pale, her face drawn, her hands wrists were free of the golden chains that kept her soul and body bound together. Melted away in the acid - like the rest of her. Her whole body trembling - pushed to the brink. Indeed, likely pushed _past_ the brink.

But her sheer anger had carried her through. If the rage in her eyes had been any indication - the cold fury that he saw there, etched on her features - there was no stopping her. She leant down to pick up one of Octavian's tools - the spigot he had used to tap into her body like it was a cask of wine only a few hours earlier.

She had rammed it through the back of his head before Octavian had even heard or sensed her - his ego had been so great.

Veil stood, her chest heaving, sweat beading on her arms and her back as she glared down at the pool of acid with muted rage - as if waiting for the madman to emerge. A shaking hand pushed her blue hair away from her face slowly.

Finally, she turned away from the acid, took two steps - and collapsed to her knees with a hard ' _unfh.'_ Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself back up to standing, and finally made it to him. "Hey, gorgeous," she muttered - doing her best to smile.

Even through what she had survived - what she had suffered, she could find the humor to greet him with that same odd choice for a nickname as she always had - if deeply marred by exhaustion and pain. He marveled at her, even through his hazy and fading vision.

A million things ran through Adrian's mind at once, as she began to unfasten the chains that bound him to the posts. Happiness. Sadness. Joy at her safety - sorrow for her suffering.

As his arms fell to his sides - as his world collapsed - he was certain of one thing. Stripped away of all that his pretense and false pride, stripped down to his very core, he had one simple desire.

He hoped she would hold his hand and stay by his side, while he died.


	7. Chapter 7

**Couldn't leave you on a cliffhanger for too long! Drop me a line if you enjoy - I love hearing people's thoughts on the story. :) Risky stuff in the last few chapters.**

 **Synopsis as promised for those who skipped the last chapter:**

 **Octavian's a sadist and begins to torture them both by murdering Veil repeatedly and forcing the blood-starved Adrian to watch. Veil is unable to escape due to chains that are enchanted that are keeping her body and soul bound together. Octavian gives each of them a bargain. If Adrian would feed from Veil they would both go free. If Veil submit to Octavian - he would give Adrian a peaceful death an end the torment. Both refuse.**

 **In a moment of rage, Octavian throws Veil into a pool of acid - expecting that he's killed her. But she rematerialized just before he ends Adrian's life, killing Octavian herself. But the deed has been done - and Adrian has been bled dry, and cannot heal his wounds. He is dying.**

* * *

Adrian awoke, and if he had been able to piece together more than two consecutive thoughts, he might have honestly been surprised. Mostly to be awake at all.

He was sitting on the ground, his back up against a wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. His hands were lying at his sides, palms open. Weak, thin and frail, he almost didn't recognize them. They were the hands of a corpse.

The chains were gone. The hooks were gone. But the damage remained. Puncture wounds - torn flesh, _missing flesh_ where the vampire Octavian had cut from him like a stuck pig. He was happy to not have been awake for their removal - as most of the hooks had to be fed through the rest of the way to keep from ripping the gashes open wider.

He was suddenly wracked in pain as he groaned - and he felt like his own body was attempting to consume itself out of desperation. One half attempting to eat the other to survive. He couldn't even lift his head.

"Hey gorgeous…" he heard a soft voice say from near him. Something shifted in his vision, as a body moved closer to his. He could smell the blood in her veins - feel the life _coursing_ through her, like a river. Endless, flowing… He felt his fangs pressing against his lip as his breath quickened, his chest heaving - hunger overwhelming him.

Adrian saw himself in his mind's eye, pressing her to the stone floor and tearing her throat open with his teeth like a wolf. How wonderful she would feel, underneath him - her soft, warm skin and hot blood to thaw his own coldness.

He wanted it. He needed it.

 _No!_

Adrian let out a pained wail as he squeezed his eyes tight, turning his head away from the person next to him.

Hands touched his face, warm hands - so warm against the cold that threatened never to leave him. "No," he begged, whimpering, wishing to be left alone. Wishing to _feed._ Wishing this was all a nightmare.

His world faded and cleared in waves as his body fought to live, even as his mind wished to die. What had he to live for? This foolish mission of his, this suffering? This endless, pointless cycle of struggle against his own family? The only time he had ever known happiness was in these walls - with his mother and father. And now, it was gone.

Let the darkness claim him. Let sleep come, once and for all. Let him rest.

* * *

Veil knew a dying man when she saw one.

Call it personal experience.

Veil would _not let him die._ "No you don't," she said to him, and tilted his head towards hers, a palm against each cheek, turning his sallow, empty face to hers. "You don't get to leave me. Not like this. Not _here._ Not after we survived all that."

"Let me die," he whispered to her, golden eyes hazy with a white film that seemed fitting only for a corpse.

"No. You don't get to go anywhere without me right now, handsome - and that's somewhere I can't go." He tried to turn away from her - weak, thin hands lifting from the ground, barely able to even grasp hers as he tried to look away. Tried to pull away from her in desperation.

Veil felt bad - forcing herself onto him like this. Her stoic, dour companion was not a 'touchy' person, but if she left him to his own devices, he'd die like this.

All Veil wanted to do was to pass out. Lay down and sleep for a week. All she wanted was to let the exhaustion and the pain take her back to the darkness and just… rest. What that _thing_ Octavian had done to her, had been some of the worst pain she had suffered in her longer-than-normal life. He was a sadist, and knew how to ply his trade.

God, she had almost wanted to give in. Almost wanted to say 'yes' and let it all be over. But she couldn't betray herself like that. She couldn't betray Adrian.

Her heart was cracking in half as she watched him wish for death - wishing to make it all go away. She knew that feeling. She had said it herself to him once before. Countless times she had eaten the business end of a pistol or jumped off a bridge - or hanged herself, in an attempt to make it all end. To make the pain go away. But that was not a choice she ever had - so _fuck all_ if she was going to let him make it instead.

"Look at me," she begged as she shifted closer to him again - turning him once more to look at her. "You can't go… not like this. Not here. Not because of _him._ You don't get to die because of some sick and twisted little _turd_ like him."

"It's too late," his voice was cracked and dry.

"No, it isn't…" What was one more death today? She held her wrist out to him. "Drink."

Adrian snarled and tried to push her away - and succeeded, in his last muster of strength, to knock her back on her heels. "You do not know what you ask!" he cried, his voice choked and broken. He tried to roll away from her - but she stopped him.

Veil straddled his legs, and pinned him to the wall by the shoulders, forcing him straighten up, and more importantly to stay put. She put her hand against his cheek again, lifting his head to look at her. She was not going to let him take the coward's way out. "I know what I'm asking… I really do. You vowed never to drink human blood again. You think it means embracing that part of you that you loathe so deeply. I get it. I really do…"

"No," he begged.

"But I'm _not_ human. And I won't die… not now, not ever. You saw what he did to me - he dissolved me in a _vat of_ _acid_ and I'm still here. I'm here with _you_ , Adrian. And you can't leave me here alone. I can't do this without you. I don't know where those two idiot priests are - or if they're still alive. I can't stop your father alone. Please..."

Golden eyes, wavering, met hers in an expression overwhelmed by pain. Torment. Hunger, grief, and loss. It broke her heart. Veil bit back tears - no. Not now. He was _not_ dead. Not yet. She wouldn't cry for him now. She combed her hands back through his hair, and he tried to recoil at her touch - struggling to free himself from her. "Go away," he begged her.

His hands pressed against her shoulders, trying to push her away. But the man who was once so strong - who could have ended her with a well-timed gesture, was now feeble and broken. She rested her forehead against his, even as he struggled to break free of her and avoid her touch. "This doesn't make you a monster," she whispered to him. "This doesn't make you less of a man. This doesn't make you more like him, or any less like you. You are _not_ your father. And letting me help you save your own life will not change that."

"Leave me," he pled.

"I'm here with you. I'm not leaving you. Let me do this, please… You can't hurt me… You can't break me. Most importantly, Adrian Tepes -" She didn't know where it came from, but she tilted his face to look up at hers, meeting his golden eyes, and said with far more meaning than she had intended. " _I will not let you leave me."_

"No," he begged again, even as his hands began to weakly slide to grasp her shoulders, instead of pushing her away. He was begging her to run even as he was unable to fight the hunger that was taking control. "Please, go… run…"

Veil leaned in, and grazed her lips against his cheek by his ear in a faint kiss as she felt one of his arms begin to snake around her waist. Adrian wasn't giving in, so much as his body was. The hunger was too much for him to fight. He was a drowning man reaching for a raft - blind to anything but survival. She tilted her head away, baring her neck to him. The sound and smell of her blood would be too much for him to resist. She tried not to let herself pull back in fear as she heard him make an inhuman hissing noise.

The arms around her were no longer weak or feeble - they were like iron girders. She tamped down the fear and reminded herself that she could disappear if she wanted to, and leave him holding empty air. But this was the only way. He was going to die, if this didn't happen.

And what was one more death today, like she said?

At least this death would have meaning.

At least death would be for someone she realized - right then and there all at once, like someone turning on a lightswitch - that she cared about.

Even as his breath was cold against her skin, as he lost control to his inhuman urges, he still begged her not to let this happen. "Run from me…"

Fangs pierced her neck, as the arms around her tightened. She heard him moan against her skin in bliss as her hot blood filled his mouth. He shifted her against him, pulling her tighter into his lap, and straightened up - sinking his teeth deeper into her skin as he bettered his angle.

She let out a small whimper in her throat, but didn't struggle - didn't fight. She stroked his hair gently with her free hand. Her other arm was now trapped under his as he held her. One of his hands was cradling the back of her head, holding it still as he drank.

An inhuman… purr… seemed to come from him, as he fed. Like some great tiger or jungle beast, as he slowly emptied her body of blood to fill his own.

The pain faded away - and she felt herself grow warm, as something else washed over her. It was a strange kind of aching pleasure - a kind of peace. A closeness. It must be so victims don't struggle, she realized to herself even as it washed over her, wave after wave. A connection to him. It was wonderful, feeling like she was bound together with him that moment. Lulling her to sleep. Lulling her to give in. To let it happen. To let herself be consumed.

Veil trusted him. The hand that was stroking his blond hair finally couldn't continue, and fell against his shoulder against his neck. She let her eyes drift shut and even as she felt her own heart stopping, she felt his resume its measured drum.

* * *

Adrian felt a tear run down his face - blood, mixed with salt. Even his tears were cursed to not know to which side they belonged.

His wounds were healing. Stitching themselves back together as he felt himself flush with fresh blood. It pounded through him with a tempo that he had not felt in ages. It was a power beneath his fingertips that he could not deny was there, even if he had denied himself its gift for so very long.

A gift.

A gift of life, so freely given.

Adrian still remained sitting on the floor where he had awoken. But now, instead of insistently pinning him there, Veil was cradled in his lap. Sitting on him sideways, as he held her. Head tucked under his chin, eyes shut. She had not awoken in some time. She would, he was certain - but the day had been more than trying on them both. They were both taking time to heal.

Adrian would let her go, the moment she showed any signs of life. He would not dare impose on her any further than he had this day. He would not have her wake in the arms of a monster such as he. Adrian would not cause her any more harm than he had wrought upon her - first with his false dignity and vanity, and then twice over in his uncontrollable hunger.

But in this moment, he found he needed her there against him. Needed to feel the moment she returned to the world of the living - to assure himself that it would indeed come. And, if he were truthful… he did not wish to let her go. Not just yet.

He had fought so hard to turn away from this darkness that now so loudly beat within his chest. So long in his life he had fought tooth and nail to climb from that dark pit that was his bloodright. And she had jumped into it - head first - without even a second glance. So certain was she of her conviction to save him. So certain was she that his _miserable_ life was worth saving. It was such a simple choice to her, like night and day.

Why? Because she could not do this alone. Veil was strong, perhaps unstoppable in her own right - but she could not defeat the vampire king. She had said so much herself.

But there was something else, mixed into her reasoning. The kiss she had laid upon his cheek. The gentle touch on his hair, even as he drained her life away. As though somehow _he_ was the one in need of consolation. Something burned in her final insistence that he could not leave her here. The meaning there he could not find, even as hard as he searched for it. So for now, he put it aside.

He curled his arms around her, and held her tighter to his chest. He could smell the scent of her deep blue hair. For a moment, it took him to another place, somewhere far away from all this horror and blood.

He decided that if he were to break all reservations for one moment in his world, to tear down all the careful walls he had built around him - let it be in this moment. If he were to have the briefest second to wallow in all that he denied himself, let it be now. For now, he would hold her, feel her body against his, and enjoy the simple comfort he had denied himself for so very long.

The moment would be gone soon enough, he knew.


	8. Chapter 8

Veil woke up slowly - and very much not wanting to do so. Five more minutes? Please? She let out a small 'mhnrf' noise as she stretched, and let her hand coil up in whatever was tucked under her head. It was fabric of some kind - and it smelled amazing. It wasn't warm, but it was better than the freezing cold that had clutched at her soul all day with jagged claws.

Today had been full of death. Trips back and forth to that place before _true_ death. Lost, floating in the surface of obsidian liquid, feeling the passage of those who would walk through the door to the Ever After. But not for her. She would always return.

Each time, she could hear Azrael's voice - first mocking her or teasing her - and then attempting to console her in turn. Her suffering at Octavian's hands was too much even for _him_ to witness _,_ it seemed. But the last death that day, she had chosen to endure. This last death she had willingly caressed and embraced to her - literally. This last time had been the easiest death that she had suffered all week at the hands of Adrian. Or, rather, his teeth this time, and not his sword. If it weren't for the coldness in her body upon waking up, she might have actually _enjoyed_ it, as sick as it sounded to her. It had provided her a closeness with another person she hadn't felt in ages.

' _You did the right thing,'_ Azrael had told her in that strange transitionary world she found herself floating in, every time she died. He was speaking gently to her now. He seemed… sincere. Almost like he cared. She hadn't known Azrael to ever express anything close to that. Maybe what she had done was a bigger deal than she had thought at the time. Veil had acted instinctively, and hadn't really thought about the ramifications at the time. ' _You showed him great kindness,'_ the angel of death had said before sending her back to the world of the living.

' _Such as he has never known.'_

She hadn't remembered coming back to life. Veil had been so tired, so exhausted and beaten, that she hadn't apparently woken up at all after her heart began beating once more - instead falling straight into sleep. She was fine with that. She had no desire to feel the aching in her body as it fought back from death.

Kindness? No. It wasn't kindness. It was anything _but_. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Veil had forced herself onto him, that's what she did. He had wanted to die - he didn't want her to touch him - didn't want her anywhere _near_ him, and she made him drink her blood. Adrian hadn't tasted it for how many centuries - and she had forced a recovering alcoholic to down a six pack. Kindness? Veil called bullshit on that one.

She finally opened her eyes, and expected to find herself alone. That's what she deserved, after what she'd done. She rolled onto her back, and let her eyes focus on the ceiling of the vampire Octavian's sick torture chamber. The vampire was dead, now - she had thrown him into the acid he used to dispose of so many of his broken 'toys.' Octavian had deserved worse - _far worse -_ than what she had done to him. But she had acted instinctually. Octavian was going to kill Adrian. And unlike her, Adrian's death would be far more permanent.

Veil half expected to find herself alone - find that Adrian had left her here, and gone on his own. She'd deserve it, if he had.

Veil looked over to her left, and couldn't quite believe her eyes. There was Adrian, the vampire in question - sitting up against the wall. One knee bent, his elbow resting upon it, head lowered. Platinum hair falling along the sides of his face in all its elegant tendrils, obscuring his features from view. She would think him asleep, if it weren't for the slow movement of the fingers on his hand - rubbing the tips of his thumb and forefinger together in slow circles.

He had redressed himself. Octavian had left him shirtless, in order to pierce his skin with the hooks and chains. Now, his chest was covered with his unbleached cotton tunic - but his coat was missing. Where - oh. The fabric under her head - the fabric that smelled like roses and old books. He must have taken his coat and wound it up under her head for a makeshift pillow. But why?

She laid there, watching him for a long moment, before finally speaking. If he knew she was awake, he wasn't awknowledging it. As he usually did, he left her to speak first. "I'm sorry…"

His fingers stopped their slow motion - and he became completely still at her words. Like a statue of himself.

Veil sat up, and rubbed her neck - as if she'd find a wound there. No, she healed far too quickly for anything like that. She ran her hand through her dark blue hair, pushing it back away from her face. The only proof she had that he had fed from her was a memory.

A hand went to the coat that had been her pillow, and she picked it up, and without really understanding why, pulled it into her lap. She let her fingers run along the soft texture of the black and gold trim. She found the gold buttons that ran its length, and she let her fingers touch the raised family crest stamped onto their face. It was a crest she had seen repeated a few times in the castle proper, and who it belonged to was without question - Dracula. No, Adrian as well, she reminded herself dutifully. But why wear them? A reminder of his lineage? A reminder of his burden? Or a reminder of better times?

Adrian didn't move. Didn't even lift his head as he sat there, eyes shut, head lowered - as if he were waiting. Waiting for her to speak once more. Waiting for an explanation, a better apology maybe, who knows. But he was letting her take the first move.

"What I did was wrong," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "But I couldn't let you die, not when there was something I could have done about it. You've… tried to deny that part of yourself for so long, and I pushed you back into that world without any care or thought of what it'd do to you. It was selfish. I put my needs above yours, and I… I can only hope you'll forgive me."

What she received in response was the only thing she couldn't have predicted.

Adrian _laughed._

It wasn't a simple, low chuckle like she had heard from him before. No. This was a real _laugh_ \- although one marred with sarcasm and removed of joy. It was a laugh that reeked of the enjoyment of some kind of heavy irony.

"You are apologizing… to _me._ " Finally he spoke. His voice was deep - and it should have scared her. It should have intimidated her. But that wasn't her way.

Veil pushed herself up to standing. "I know what I've done. And you can take my apology, or leave it. I-" Her voice cut off in her throat with a small noise.

He moved then, eyes opening to look up at her through heavy lids - and it was the sight of them that cut off her voice in her throat. They were no longer gold - they were _crimson._ Her flinch was not subtle enough, and his lips curled into a sardonic smirk. "It will pass in time."

"I-" Veil stammered at a loss for words. She was _never_ at a loss for words. That was her forte, after all. But look away, and she'd risk offending him. "I.. I'm sorry," she said again, feeling her words fall flat, impotent and useless.

"So you've said."

Veil felt a stab of something horrible in her heart at his words. Or rather his lack thereof. Why had he laughed at her, only to give her no explanation? Veil narrowed her eyes as her hurt turned to anger, which was a gift that came second only to her use of humor as armor.

"Fine, jackass. Don't talk to me. If you want to be a dick about this, that's your prerogative. Let's just get our stuff and go without talking about what happened then, huh? Is that what you want?" She turned her back to him and went over to get her stuff from a wooden table by one wall. She'd need new weapons - as Octavian had melted one of her steel rods in the acid by the wall. "Sure! Business as usual. Absolutely nothing important just happened!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "What could we possibly have to talk about-"

He had moved faster than she could even see - faster than she had _ever_ seen him move before. Suddenly, he was no longer sitting. And she was no longer standing where she had been. In the blink of an eye, Adrian had her by the throat, and was pressing her up against the wall he had just been leaning against. It hadn't been meant to hurt her - just to stop her. The hand around her throat wasn't tight - wasn't squeezing down on her, but had pinned her into place with a firmness that left little room for argument. The message was clear. _Stay put._

His hair fell along the sides of his face in its long waves, still settling from the sheer speed of his movement. Veil could disappear - leave him standing there holding nothing. But his scarlet eyes - flecked at the edges with the gold that she recognized - were boring into her, holding her pinned in place.

The weight of his stare - the power behind it - made her heart leap into her throat and lodge there like a rock. Veil thought hard about stepping through into the spirit world to escape him, but she couldn't find it in herself to do it. Veil had found the man captivating before, but now something had changed in him. His gaze kept her rooted there, for no other reason than he was silently commanding her to do so.

Was he doing this on purpose? Was he controlling her, or was the way she found him so hopelessly enthralling that kept her pinned there in silence? She knew vampires could hypnotize. Was this it? Or was it her fault?

"You beg my forgiveness..?" he finally spoke, his deep voice resonating in his chest. "You _dare_ to do such a thing?"

Guilt wracked her, and she thought that her apology was now rejected, that it wasn't good enough for what she had done. "I-" she tried to explain herself, but he lifted his other hand, and placed a finger gently upon her lips, silencing her. The cooler skin of his finger against her lips made her cheeks flush, despite her anger and annoyance at the man. She had never seen him like this. Maybe it was the blood rushing through his body that seemed to make him so much bolder.

"Octavian placed before me a simple bargain. Feed from you, and he would release us both. Free from the harm he would so wantonly bestow upon _you_. I turned down his game each time, only to watch you _suffer_ for it… Why? To keep myself free of this darkness that would come with the taste of blood on my tongue."

His skin seemed all the more chilled against her as her breath quickened. She knew he could feel her pulse, pounding like a drum, under his hand. His crimson gaze flicked to her lips for a second - and she felt her stomach twist into a knot. What was he going to do? Dread and excitement both were suddenly warring at the surface. Both wanting him to act on whatever his desire _was -_ and terrified of it at the same time.

He lifted his finger from her lips, but kept his hand gently clasped at her throat. The moment passed, and he continued to speak, quietly, his crimson eyes once more locking her in place. "Yet, at the end of it all - when death came to claim me, you, his ' _daughter,'_ comes to shield me from his icy grasp with the very thing I sought so steadfastly to deny myself?"

Adrian laughed once more - the irony of it all being the source of his humor. "Here I stand, with _your_ lifeblood coursing through my veins… and I realize now, it did not matter. I could have spared us both such torment, were I not so childishly protective of my own _vanity._ You claim to know what you've done?" He finally lifted his hand from her throat, and took a step back away from her, snapping his potentially unintentional, and yet undoubtedly hypnotic command over her. "Speak to me of my folly, instead."

Veil stood there, astonished, as his expression changed from one of a predator into one of sorrow, and turned his back to her.

Anybody catch the license plate of the truck that just ran her over? Her mind reeled to try and catch up with his drastic mood shift. First it looked like he was going to sink his teeth into her throat again - and then her mind caught up with his words. "Wait… _your_ folly?"

"The deaths you suffered… any _one_ of them would more than cruelty enough. But again and again - you died at his hands, as I refused his bargain. Only to have you willingly give me what I sought so hard to turn away." Adrian lifted hand in front of him, looking at his palm, as if wondering what its value truly was.

Veil walked towards him, and he was visibly startled as she put her hand into his. She did it without thinking - without debating the merits of why, or if she should. He looked at her - red eyes confused, brow creased. But he did not pull his hand away from hers. Veil grasped his hand and pulled him around to face her.

"Whatever," she tried to play off what had happened, mostly in hopes that if she said that the torture wasn't a big deal, it'd become a self fulfilling prophecy. She'd cope. She always did. But his bizarre thought process was more concerning to her. "Adrian… are you okay?"

Adrian laughed once again, this time in sheer astonishment instead of sarcastic irony. He was bewildered by her question to the point where he didn't know how to respond for a long moment. "I am fine, Veil… More so than I have been in many centuries. Much of my strength comes from that which I reject. I refuse the blood of the living with full knowledge that it leaves me crippled and weakened. I turn away from that hunger in me not for the sake of my 'immortal soul,' but-" he paused, and seemed to think better of finishing his sentence.

"Why?" Veil pressed him to finish his thought.

Adrian shut his eyes, as if to avoid seeing her reaction and fearing judgement, his own expression fading from confusion into one of deep shame. "Strictly for the pleasure it brings me, like the monster I am."

Wait - so _that_ was his problem?! He didn't drink blood because it gave him a case of the jollies?!

Veil was not one to second-guess her urges. Ever. And right now, she wanted to shake him like a goddamn polaroid. So she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt with both hands and yanked him down to her level, giving him a hard shake as she did.

It nearly knocked him off balance - and his eyes flew wide again, utterly stunned, hands grabbing her elbows in an attempt to keep from falling over onto her.

"Listen to me, real carefully, you _stupid man._ You fed from me on _my_ terms - not Octavian's. I would rather die like that at your hands a thousand times, then _ever again_ on that _goddamn_ table-" she pointed at the metal table behind her - still stained crimson with her blood. The implements of torture scattered around on the ground like so many abandoned toys. "You want to talk about sick _pleasure_? Talk about that! That's the kind of monster that lives here… _not you._ That sadistic piece of shit cut out my tongue to watch me drown, Adrian - he _cut off my leg -_ he put a - a-" she broke off, unable to describe what Octavian had done when he had tapped into her like a keg at a party.

Veil finally realized that no - Octavian's actions really did have an effect on her. And as she tried to describe them to Adrian to make a point, it all came crashing over her like the break of a wave. She tried to push it away, but she was losing the battle. Her hands were shaking, so she gripped the fabric of his shirt harder to mask it.

Adrenaline hit her system at the memory of the serrated blades slicing into her skin, no matter how hard she tried to fight it. Her leg tingled in phantom pain. She snarled at her own weakness, as fear and pain turned again to anger. She took one hand away from his shirt and balled it into a fist. "You-" she punched Adrian in the chest. "- are _not-"_ she punched him again, her voice becoming more frantic than she intended. "-a _fucking_ _monster!"_

As she came down to punch him again, his hand closed around her fist, stopping her. When she went to yank her hand away, it was her turn to be shocked. He pulled her into him, and she felt his arms wrap around her. His movements were slow - almost tentative. If she wanted to pull away, she could at any moment. He held her to him in a gentle hug, and it wasn't until then that she realized how loud and fast her heart was drumming in her ears. How quickly she was breathing. How badly her hands had been shaking.

She felt his cheek rest atop her head as she let her arms wrap around him as well. She let her fingers tangle into his shirt as she rested her forehead on his chest. Veil felt her heart start to slow back down. She forced her breaths to slow - concentrating everything on breathing deeper.

Forcing herself not to think about Octavian and what he had done, she focused instead on the fabric of his shirt in her fingers - the kindness of his embrace as he tried to console her. Or maybe she was consoling him. Or most likely, both.

Get it together, you idiot - she scolded herself. Get it together.

* * *

Adrian would and sit and wait for Veil to wake from her slumber for as long as it took. She had not awoken once her heart resumed its tempo in her chest for some time. Octavian had put her through great strain, and Adrian had sent her back to that netherworld once more, when he drank her dry. He had tried to stop feeding before he had killed her - as was traditionally the custom. But he was so starved - so weak - he had lapped at the wound at her neck long after her heart had stopped - like an animal.

He still had her taste in his mouth. Adrian wanted to crawl across the floor of Octavian's chambers, and lower his head to her neck once more. Her heart was beating again. It would be so easy to get it to stop once more.

No. He was not that beast. He was not that animal.

So he bowed his head in thought - let himself focus on calming the torrent of power that was now coursing through him - and the inevitable results of its presence in his body. And waited for her to awake.

"I'm sorry…"

The words caught him by surprise - and the slow, contemplative movement of his fingers froze. He had heard her stir from her slumber, although he did not open his eyes or look up at her as she did. He was too far locked in the shame of his actions to greet her.

As soon as he had heard her heartbeat resume, he had gently laid her down on the ground. He only then, stood from the floor to put his coat underneath her head and dress himself. His wounds were healed - her blood had worked quickly in his starved system to mend his broken form.

But her first words to him made him lock solid in confusion. For what could she possibly be sorry for? Perhaps she was going to continue by saying she could no longer travel with him. She sat in silence for some time, waiting for him to speak. But he could not muster the words. He did not know what words he sought after - and every option seemed wrong, ill-conceived. Flat. And he could not begin to understand the meaning behind her apology.

She interpreted his silence as the desire for her to explain, and not the stupor that instead inspired it. "What I did was wrong," she said, her voice soft. "But I couldn't let you die, not when there was something I could have done about it. You've… tried to deny that part of yourself for so long, and I pushed you back into that world without any care or thought of what it'd do to you. It was selfish. I put my needs above yours, and I… I can only hope you'll forgive me."

She was begging forgiveness from the snake who sank its fangs into her flesh and poisoned her. And why? Because somehow _she_ was to blame for putting it there?

The absurdity of it made him laugh.

He was laughing at himself - at his piteous, pathetic existence. He was laughing at how fiendishly _backwards_ it all seemed to him. Even as her blood was racing through his body - even as he felt more alive now than he had in his many broken centuries. Even as his nerves, his senses, his mind seemed removed of a fog that had grown over him like mold.

"You are apologizing… to _me._ " Adrian couldn't help but feel the need to restate the farce that now was his waking world. This must be a jest on her part - poking fun at his foolishness.

He heard her shift to stand, and when she replied to him - she sounded defensive. "I know what I've done. And you can take my apology, or leave it. I-"

Finally, Adrian opened his eyes to look at her - lifting his head just barely enough to meet her gaze. And it was the sight of him that choked her to silence. He knew why. He wasn't stupid. His eyes were not what she had expected - they were the eyes of a predator. The eyes of the snake he truly was. It made him smirk - at the cruelty that she should see such a reminder of whose blood made his eyes turn to the crimson red of a monster. "It will pass in time."

Her stammered reaction made his self-loathing deepen in a tighter grip around his heart. She repeated her plea for forgiveness. "I'm sorry..."

"So you've said." His words were cruel, but not meant to be so for her sake. Yet, he was misinterpreted once more by her. Adrian cursed himself once again for his inability to convey his simplest thoughts correctly. His father never failed for such a skill - perhaps he inherited that trait from his mother, who he had never known to be eloquent, for all her gifts.

Adrian watched as she flinched as though he had struck her. Her heart was written so plainly on her sleeve. Hurt turned to pain, pain turned to anger. Where anyone else he knew would have slunk away or broken into tears - she lashed back out at him with a blazing fire.

"Fine, jackass. Don't talk to me," she snapped at him. "If you want to be a dick about this, that's your prerogative. Let's just get our stuff and go without talking about what happened then, huh? Is that what you want?" Veil turned her back to him, as she looked about the room for her effects. No, that is _not_ what he wished for, and he felt his own anger flash in return for her assumptions - more for frustration at himself, then, perhaps at her misconstrusion.

"Sure! Business as usual. Absolutely nothing important just happened!" Her angry, sarcastic tone was the final straw. It was then, that he decided he needed to _make_ her understand. Even through his own ineptitude. "What could we possibly have to talk about-"

Perhaps it was her blood in his veins that made him choose his actions so impulsively. There was an undeniably dark, primal power that rose in him. Before he could even second-guess himself, he had taken her by the shoulders, faster than he had moved in many centuries - and had her pressed against the wall, one hand at her throat to keep her still. He took great care not to hurt her.

Adrian felt the regret and trepidation at his actions as soon as he had done them - even as he felt something unnameable surge in him in response. She looked up at him - and he saw her dark eyes flick between his crimson ones, in shock. But not fear. Even now, Veil did not fear him.

She _should._

"You beg my forgiveness..?" he finally spoke, more as a growl than words. "You _dare_ to do such a thing?"

"I-" she began, but he would not hear it. It was his turn to speak, for better or worse. He placed his finger on her lips, and felt the soft, maddeningly warm and tender skin there beneath his touch. His heart was pounding in response to hers - and it took great control to keep his breathing measured.

It took an even greater effort to not sink his fangs into her throat and taste her once more - when he had the presence of mind to savor it like a fine wine. In his mind's eye, he saw himself crush her body against his, saw his hand tangling into her sapphire hair. He could almost hear her furtive moan as he took her in every possible meaning of the word.

 _This_ was what he feared, so very much. This is what he so fiercely tried to close himself away from. This shining lure - so sweet, so wonderful, so full of ecstasy that tempted him so. This was the source of his torment that Octavian played like a lute, so much was manipulative skill.

But Veil did not understand. How could she? How could she understand what raged through him now like a storm at night, battering at the shutters of his soul? "Octavian placed before me a simple bargain. Feed from you, and he would release us both. Free from the harm he would so wantonly bestow upon _you_." Adrian spoke, as he remembered keenly the heartache he felt at watching such pain that no one should endure - the hunger he felt to join in the shedding of such blood. How he wanted to taste her, when Octavian had spilled out her life on the empty air. The cruelty that Adrian had, indeed, viscerally shared as Octavian had stated.

Adrian continued, feeling the loathing for his own nature inspiring him on. "I turned down his game each time, only to watch you _suffer_ for it… Why? To keep myself free of this darkness that would come with the taste of blood on my tongue."

For what good it did him! He made her suffer pointlessly - for his own selfish pride. A pointless denial of the inevitable that cost her so great a fee.

Even as her vein pounded under his fingertips, his desire hammered at him. He could smell her blood, the sweet, cloying aroma calling to him even still. The scent of her deep blue hair, the warmth of her touch. There was a great, deep, horrible desire to press up against her then, to feel the heat of her body against his own coldness.

The carnal, predatory hunger that threatened to seize control made him yearn to replace his finger against her lips with something more.

She was beautiful.

He _wanted_ her.

The thought struck him hard across the face like a slap, and he lifted his finger from her lips. No. He was not this beast. He was not a creature, lost in passion, like his weaker half-brethren. He was drunk on the feeling of her plasma fueling him. His strength of will would not so easily be bent by bloodlust.

"Yet, at the end of it all - when death came to claim me, you, his ' _daughter,'_ comes to shield me from his icy grasp with the very thing I sought so steadfastly to deny myself?"

He felt the urge to laugh once more - a cruel, ironic laugh at his own life. "Here I stand, with _your_ lifeblood coursing through my veins… and I realize now, my resistance did not matter. I could have spared us both such torment, were I not so childishly protective of my own _vanity._ You claim to know what you've done?"

Adrian did not deserve to feel her heart pounding beneath her skin, and he pulled away from her. Shame, embarrassment and loathing tore through him as he turned away from her. Disgust at himself for his dark desires. "Speak to me of my own folly, instead."

Confusion in her voice reigned as she replied. "Wait… _your_ folly?"

How could she not understand? "The deaths you suffered… any _one_ of them would more than cruelty enough. But again and again - you died at his hands, as I refused his bargain. Only to have you willingly give me what I sought so hard to turn away." He looked down at the palm that had been around her throat but a moment prior - and felt the warmth of her skin lingering there still.

"Whatever," she flippantly brushed off what she had endured. Adrian jumped, startled, as her hand found his open one - the warmth of her skin returning to his skin as she turned him to face her. He did not pull away - he did not wish to insult her further. And honestly… he did not wish to. "Adrian… are you okay?" she asked, concern creasing her brow.

Adrian laughed this time in a sad kind of amazement. Who was she, to ignore the cost she had paid, and instead worry about _him?_ He did not deserve such sentiment. "I am fine, Veil… More so than I have been in many centuries. Much of my strength comes from that which I reject. I refuse the blood of the living with full knowledge that it leaves me crippled and weakened. I turn away from that hunger in me not for the sake of my 'immortal soul,' but-"

Adrian broke off, and could not finish his words. Shame gripped his heart, and he wished to curl into some dark place and render himself to dust. After Octavian's blatantly sadistic and sensual joy at her death and mutilation - the admission that Adrian felt the same, even to the smallest measure, would condemn him in her eyes. He was certain.

Let it be, Veil… please… Let it be.

"Why?" she pressed, and he cringed in near physical pain.

Very well. Let her condemn him. Let her see him for the beast he was - as no better than the monster who had taken her tongue to watch her drown for his own sick joy. He deserves no less. Adrian shut his eyes, to spare himself the pain of her judgemental expression. "Strictly for the pleasure it brings me, like the monster I am."

He nearly yelped as she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him forward. His thoughts rattled in his head as she _shook him_ like a fractious child. Adrian nearly fell atop her, and his hands went to her elbows to steady himself. When he reopened his eyes - he found them met with a kind of fury in hers.

"Listen to me, real carefully, you _stupid man._ You fed from me on _my_ terms - not Octavian's. I would rather die like that at your hands a thousand times, then _ever again_ on that _goddamn_ table-" she pointed behind her at the scene of her most recent torment, but did not stop her furious rant. "You want to talk about sick _pleasure_? Talk about that! That's the kind of monster that lives here… _not you._ That sadistic piece of shit cut out my tongue to watch me drown, Adrian - he _cut off my leg -_ he put a - a-" she stammered into a choke, as her words failed her. Her words, for the little time he had known her, had _never_ failed her.

It was then, that Adrian realized her anger was so sharply edged not by her fury alone - but by a frenetic, strange kind of panic that was taking her over. Her words were sparking a reliving of her recent pain, and forcing her to admit the cost they took from her. It was causing her heart to beat frantically and her breath to come in quick, shallow pulls.

And yet, she _still_ managed to use it to fuel her forward. He watched as she balled up a fist and began to yell at him as she slammed her fist into his chest. "You-" her hand impacted him with a dull thump. "-are _not-"_ another dull thump as she slammed her fist into him again. "-a _fucking monster!"_

She went to strike him again, and he had enough. Not of the abuse - he would gladly let her punch him as hard as she liked and as frequently as she wished, if it would exchange for any ounce of anguish. No - he had enough of her pain, knowing this time, _he_ had put it there. He caught her fist in mid-throw, stopping it in its tracks.

The weight of the day was crushing her, and he did the only thing he could think of to share her burden. The only thing that sprang to his mind. Adrian knew she would recoil from him - shun his touch. Why _wouldn't_ she? But he tried anyway - wrapping his arms around her, and tried to pull her into a gentle hug.

He felt her stiffen in surprise - and he waited for her to shrink away or perhaps strike him once more. But… she did not. Instead, a small noise left her throat and she wound her arms around him in turn. He could feel her fingers in the fabric of his shirt. As she rested her forehead against his chest and let out a shuddering breath in an attempt to still her frantic heartbeat, he allowed himself the conceit of resting his cheek against the top of her head, against her soft hair.

Adrian shut his eyes, feeling the warmth of her so close to him. It was not a passionate embrace of lovers - this was one of benign friendship. One of comfort and consolation that they both needed.

* * *

They had gathered up their things and left in mostly silence. Neither of them seemed willing to talk about what had happened this time - and just let it be.

Mostly, Veil was concerned with the fact that she didn't have any weapons. Octavian had melted one of her steel batons - and it felt kind of stupid just to have one, when the entire point was to have _two._

But Adrian said he had a solution in mind. And so, they left Octavian's chambers with Adrian in the lead. His eyes were no longer crimson, and had reverted back to the gold that she recognized. What an odd side effect, she had thought to herself. As his eyes had faded from red to gold, he seemed to calm down - be less… intense.

Veil wanted to press him for more details on what had happened to him. When they had argued - it looked like he wanted to eat her whole. But that was the price of his feeding - the threat of becoming lost in it. Falling victim to the madness that those like Octavian had done. So, Veil let it be. She let the man sulk in silence - ever stoic once more. Finally, she had to break the lull. "Alright so… what's the plan?" she asked.

"Plan?" Adrian echoed her question, as if he didn't understand.

"Do we go straight for Dracula? Do we try to find Gabriel and Conrad?" Veil asked, tucking her hands in her pockets. She didn't like being unarmed - it made her feel naked.

"I may take a week of searching for the priests before we locate them." He sounded foreboding at best - his words carrying a heavy implication.

She put together his connotation aloud. "A week we don't have, with Dracula's armies set to burn the country down," she finished his thought.

"Precisely."

Veil pondered the situation as they walked - the only sound to be heard was her boots on the stone floor. The vampire she was traveling with, made no noise as he walked. Not unless he wanted to.

It's not like Veil hated the two priests. She didn't. They didn't really know her - didn't really trust her, and she couldn't blame him. And besides - if Octavian was any indication of the depths of cruelty and barbarism - the sheer malice this place had to offer… she didn't want to try and imagine what those two were suffering through. "I don't like the idea of leaving them out there to fend for themselves."

Adrian trailed to a stop, and she looked at him curiously. He had taken something out of his pocket - and was holding it in his gloved hand, fingers closed around it. She felt… magic course through him. Veil knew the taste it left in her mouth - she'd seen and felt enough of it in her days. Power crackled in the air - and in the spirit world, she saw it arc out from him like electrical currents on a jacob's ladder. Alright, he was casting a spell - but what exactly was he doing?

"Command me, my lord and master!"

Veil shrieked. Straight-up, little girl, just-saw-a-mouse, undignified, shrieked. Something had appeared behind her and close to her head, and she hadn't expected anything of the sort. She was startled.

She ducked as if a bat were flying at her head - and the sound of flapping wings made it seem like that could very much be the case. She whirled - and saw some little… grey and purple imp, floating in the air. It carried a small spear, and was hovering in the air, flapping its leathery wings to keep itself afloat. It was looking at her with its beady little face screwed up in a look of disgust. "What is _wrong_ with it, Master? It certainly is ugly."

Veil fumed - angry at being startled, and then at the insults. " _I'm_ ugly?! Why you little son of a bitch-" she went to slap it out of the air - but it ducked behind Adrian with a scared squeak.

It climbed up onto the vampire's shoulder for protection. "It's ugly, and angry!" it glared at her.

That set Adrian chuckling, smiling faintly at her as he scratched the imp on the head. It cooed like a pigeon, and leaned into his fingers. "Be kind, both of you. I have a task for you, my little friend."

"I am at your service, my master!" it gleefully cried, and bounced off his shoulder to take flight once more - although saying out of Veil's reach.

"There are two humans in this place - priests of the Holy Order. We were separated from them, and we know not their fate. I bid you find them, then return to us with news."

"Yes, my lord!" The little imp flew off then disappeared in a shimmer as it went about its task.

"I hate imps," Veil grumbled under her breath. It wasn't the first time she'd met creatures like that before.

Adrian looked at her fondly - an expression that caught her off guard for a moment. But it was gone as soon as it had come, and Adrian was idly shaking his head as he began walking down the hallway once more. "It seems they are not overly keen on you, either."

Veil stuck her tongue out at the back of his head as they resumed their trek. Even though the castle rearranged itself every time it arose from the void - he seemed to have some sense of where he was going. Either that, or he was very good at faking it.

As they rounded a corner, she pulled up short at the sight of creatures, hunched over in the hallway.

They were gigantic - half man, half doglike things, that would have looked monstrous _before_ they had seemed to rot away for weeks. The strange, werewolf like monsters were dripping with ooze as they lifted their torn faces to look at them. Skin, fur and sinew was loose on their bones. Like they had been buried beside a swamp for months.

They sniffed the air, then snarled - the rotted, putrid skin pulling back from their sharp teeth.

Adrian barely reacted as he drew his sword - and Veil could only pull in a small breath in awe at how quickly it all transpired. The vampire had been a dancer before, moving gracefully through a fight like it was a choreographed ballet. But something in him had changed. Now, his lithe movements were as deadly as they were elegant.

She watched as he vanished into some kind of mist - or who-knows-what, before it ripped down the hallway with a speed she could barely follow. The wet sound of a sharp blade through flesh accompanied the movement, and the monsters in the hallway collapsed to the ground before disappearing into flame. Adrian appeared on the other side of the fray, looking nonplussed and untouched, his coat settling from the speed of the attack.

"Holy shit," she said through an impressed laugh. "Have you been holding out on me, man?" Veil walked down the hallway to catch up with him.

Adrian seemed to struggle for her meaning for a moment - flipping through his mental Rolodex for a translation to her modern verbiage. Finally he seemed to figure it out, judging by the slightly uneasy sigh. "It is the result of my feeding from you. I cannot use the 'gifts' of my father's bloodline while starved." His voice was thick with regret and loathing once more.

Damnit, Veil. Don't let him go down this road again. She decided to change the tone of the conversation - if not the topic. Veil shot him a playful grin as she spoke. "Whoa whoa whoa, so - you're telling me the only reason I kicked your ass was because you were on _hunger strike?_ " She shoved his arm as she walked passed him - the exchange earning her a look of surprise from him - but at least it had cracked his clouded mood.

"You did not 'kick my ass,'" Adrian asserted, and walked beside her. "You merely held your own. If you remember, I believe it was I who ended the fight."

"Only because I didn't want to chip those perfect teeth of yours. I was going easy on you," she argued. She sounded convincing, but it was a complete lie and they both knew it. "Now, I know better!"

"Mmhm," Adrian looked down at her, one thin eyebrow arched slightly higher than the other. "Perhaps when this is all ended, we will have to put that to the test."

"Are you asking for a rematch?" Veil laughed, and stuck her hand out to him to shake on it. "You're on, Pretty Boy."

He took her hand, and instead of shaking it, lifted it to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her knuckles, smirking as he did so. Veil flushed and yanked her hand away - and shoved him in the arm as he laughed.

"Quit it, weirdo," Veil said through a laugh and pushed him away, namely because of the way it made her heart skip a beat. She was sure he could hear it, and that he was just messing with her.

"I thought perhaps to demonstrate, and ergo teach you some proper manners," Adrian said, his droll humor coming to the surface again.

"Good luck to you, my friend," she said, grinning at him. "Better men than you have tried."

"Ah, but therein lies my advantage - I am no man," Adrian responded, a curl to his lips, clearly enjoying the verbal fencing match.

Veil snickered at his well played retort. "I was loosely raised by an ex-archangel, don't you forget. That sorry, sad, son of a bitch - he sent plenty of tutors to try and teach me manners. They all failed for one simple reason. See, here's the thing - I know them. I just don't _care._ "

Adrian bowed his head, conceding the 'match' with a small smile. They walked in silence for a while longer through the hauntingly eerie hallways, painted from a gothic nightmare. Surprisingly, it was Adrian that broke the silence once more.

"Tell me… what of your life in his care?"

What a cannonball blast that was. Veil felt a chill go down her spine at his words. Her stomach dropped, and she dug her hands into her coat pockets. She let her blue hair fall alongside her face, to hide the harrowed expression that must have taken hold.

"What about it?" she finally managed to get out of her mouth. She couldn't keep the gloom out of her voice.

Adrian's misstep was blatant enough for even him to catch. When he didn't answer, and she looked up at him - his face was neutral, but drawn tight in apprehension. Veil sighed, and looked back down at her feet as they walked. "Go ahead, Adrian. Ask. It's alright. I've poked enough at your life."

When the golden-eyed vampire didn't respond, she'd have thought he had disappeared, but for the movement of his carefully tailored, black coat in the corner of her vision. Either he didn't want to ask a question for fear of offending her, or didn't know how to phrase it right. Or, six of one, half dozen of the other.

She owed him this much. She could let him in - even just a little. "Azrael wasn't ever around. I've talked to him more in this little adventure than the rest of my life combined. As for Alistair? He wasn't really involved in the day-to-day of my upbringing. I was raised by his cult - the people in service to him. He had the presence of mind at least to know that humans were better suited to raising a 'human' than he was. Or at least something he'd made to look and act human." Veil shrugged. "I'm about as human as a coffee pot when it comes down to it. Whatever."

Veil finally looked up from her feet, and out the window at the sky of the perpetual night that cloaked the castle - the stars, and the darkness of the forest beyond. It was almost pretty - if she didn't know what kind of 'evil' had spawned this place. "Alistair himself was more like a phantom in my life. Always there in the shadows. He pulled the strings - made sure everything always went exactly as he wanted - but never meddled too directly. A director behind the scenes in the movie of my life."

"Why?" Adrian asked, and she winced. "Why ignore you, if creating you was his goal?"

Veil chewed on her blue painted lower lip. Of course, she had packed her lipstick. It made her feel more like herself, and when they left Octavian's chambers, she had donned her favorite shade. "I wasn't ready yet. He wanted me to grow and develop on my own." Veil prayed the vampire wouldn't push the subject. No luck.

"That is an odd choice, for a parent raising a child… Is not imparting one's values and skills - and perhaps I am mistaken, my life is not a prime example - the point entirely in having them at all?"

Veil would have preferred it if he'd stabbed her. He asked the question with such unassuming curiosity - the way he had touched the marks on her skin. Never guessing at what lay beneath. Veil tried to spin a half-truth to get herself out of it. "Loneliness was his reason. He wanted company in his miserable, godforsaken existence. He couldn't find it, so he built it. He didn't want someone who would parrot back at him everything he believed, so he had me raised outside his direct contact. The hypocrisy there is that he still left me in the care of his goddamn _cult_ \- who raised me exactly the same way he would have _._ So really, it was for show. To make him look benign - harmless. Alistair claims he loves humanity. It's all a fucking sham."

Everything she had said was true. Everything she had said was a fact. It just wasn't the whole story. It was, as she had just accused Alistair of being - a sham. Veil felt awful hiding the rest of the story from Adrian, but… hell, she could hardly admit it to herself on the coldest of nights, let alone to a man who could rivet her feet to the floor and make her heart jump into her throat.

"I see," he responded, and seemed to buy the answer for now. "When they murdered you, that day…"

"They were stopping my aging. I was ready. I was a grape, ready to be plucked. Ripe." Veil sneered, a derision pointed only inwards. "Can't let the crop go bad on on the vine, now can we?" she sarcastically snapped at herself, cruelly quoting a phrase that Alistair himself had once used.

"Those words are not yours," Adrian assumed correctly.

"They're his," she confirmed for him, and ran a hand through her blue hair before letting it fall back along her face. "Ever meet someone… who is so cruel in their kindness… Just so sickly manipulative you can never know his intentions. Always making you feel guilty for second-guessing. He never did anything wrong. He never hurt me - not once. But it was just… evil." Veil rubbed the back of her neck. "I'm doing a piss poor job at explaining him."

"You were not their captive."

It was a statement, not a question. Rightly assuming that you don't grow up railing against the people around you - your family. She shook her head, no. "I was one of them. They were the only world I knew. Alistair saw to that. Made sure I felt like I was free - but had a very carefully tailored experience of life."

"Why did you kill him? What made you leave the cult?" Adrian asked - once more diffident inquisitiveness.

"When I learned how he made me. I didn't know I was a… homunculus, a carved puppet, until Azrael told me - the day I died. When I learned that I was made from the sacrifices of other people - other children - I just couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle how many people had died or suffered or loss a loved one, to make me. That kind of cavalier disregard for life… Well, you get what that's like."

"I do."

"Fuck parents, am I right?" she looked at Adrian with a grin - shrugging off the great weight of her past in five words like it had never existed at all.

Amusement and melancholy battled on his face for a moment - until neither one won. He was stoic once more, if faintly bewildered by her sudden shift in mood. Maybe that's what his problem was - his two halves canceled themselves out so frequently, it came out as a net zero.

"Hey Adrian," she said as she looked out the window again as they walked down the corridor of seemingly never-ending doors and windows. "Do you realize you talked about 'after this is over?' When you challenged me to a rematch?"

"I suppose."

"That means you admit that after this place crumbles to dust, you and I are going to wander off and find a field somewhere and duke it out."

"Yes, but-" he tried to interject to likely explain that it was simply banter, not to be taken seriously - but she didn't let him.

"After which, I'm going to buy us both coffee, and we're going to go see a movie," she said with a smile, trying to picture Adrian sitting uncomfortably in an AMC - and it was such a ridiculous mental image it made her almost lose it laughing. "You have a lot to catch up on."

It was a thing she knew would never happen - lives like Adrian and hers, never worked out that way in the end. But it was fun to dream. Dreams of another life kept her going, when things were at their worst. Well, that, and sarcasm.

Adrian didn't respond once more - and when she looked at him, he was looking at her with a sort of mournful… peace. The attendance of a loved one's funeral who had been sick for a long time. The acceptance of the inevitable loss. As if he had already knew what she spoke of, could never be. But seemed flattered by the offer, nonetheless.

Luckily, the moment was broken as they rounded a corner, and came to an enormous double door, made of wrought iron and steel. It was easily twenty feet wide - and thirty tall. Most castles would have a gate to the front door that size, let alone an interior door.

"Ah, here we are," Adrian said as he walked forward to grasp a gigantic door rung in his hand.

"Where's 'here?'" Veil asked.

"The armory."


	9. Chapter 9

**Enjoy! I'm going to try and get another one out today if I can. Thanks again for the reviews!**

* * *

"Well, that can't be good."

And no, it was not.

The armory was empty.

In all his centuries, Adrian had never known the armory to be… vacant. The giant chamber was tiered up each wall with row after row of racks that should contain weaponry of every type. Bows, swords, shields - and instruments of pain that had yet been named. It had always been somewhat overwhelming to see - like some great collector's life's insane masterpiece.

But now, the racks were empty. The 'collection' was missing. The stone walls were visible behind the racks - stained dark with moisture and heat. The condensation had created long rivulets of dark water marks against the granite blocks. If the rest of the castle were cold - this place was a sauna.

And the sound of hammer meeting metal - the roar of a fire - was the reasoning why. This was not just the armory, as he had told Veil. This was a forge.

"I don't think I need to ask where it all went," his blue-haired companion said from beside him as he resumed his trek across the giant stone chamber. Her tone of voice intonated that no, he need not explain.

The armory would only empty under one occasion. If the armies marched to war.

Adrian's jaw clenched tight. He could feel it twitch as he found himself furious at what his father had done. Not even after Lisa's death, had he stooped so low. Why? Why now?

"Where're we going?" she asked, as she followed after him.

"To see Hephaestus."

"Uhhuh. Sure. Hephaestus. Why not?" she said through a snorted laugh, and threw her hands up in the air. "Son of Dracula, walking toaster slash daughter of death, and now Hephaestus. Does Darth Vader live here too?"

"Who?" Adrian shot her a querying look. "The name does not-"

"It's a joke, buttercup," she interrupted with yet another pet name in his direction. "Never mind."

"I see."

They walked from this chamber into another, similarly empty collection room. Each room that they passed through darkened his mood - further confirmed his father had finally committed to his desire to see the world burned away of its humanity. But the chirping of his companion kept him from sinking too deeply into his misery. Adrian wondered if she was keenly aware of her actions - if that were not indeed the point of her continued conversation.

"So wait, is he like - actually Hephaestus? Or just some dude who decided to call himself Hephaestus?"

"Explain to me the difference, if you might."

"One's a greek god, the other's a fucked up, semi-demonic dude with a forge who decided he wanted to be a rockstar. Like Prince. Y'know, fake it till you make it?"

The flat expression on his face sent her laughing, grinning at how lost he was for the second half of her exposition. She seemed to ever delight in dancing circles around him with her bantering. "You get what I'm saying," she teased, nudging his elbow with her hand, pushing it forward. She did that now, it seemed - poking at him gently to keep him from losing himself from the here and now.

"You wonder if he is merely using it as a nom de plume," he clarified.

It was her turn to be mystified at his choice of words, and he smirked down at her. She saw his verbal riposte and feigned a stab to the shoulder. "Ow, one for the vampire. Alright, sure - whatever you said."

Adrian chuckled once in his throat and looked ahead of them, at the abandoned rooms of the forge. The clanging of hammer on steel was growing slowly louder. Time was, this place would be crawling with monsters - literally and figuratively. But now, it seemed… even worse in their absence.

"You know," he began thoughtfully, as he mulled the question over. "I do not honestly know. I have never thought to ask him."

"Well, great! I have an awesome conversation starter then," she shoved her hands into her coat as they walked. She seemed far less troubled by the missing creatures and weaponry than he was - but she seemed far less troubled by everything in general.

It wasn't until they had halfway crossed through a large, circular room - the floor etched deep with trenches that sat about six inches deep, that he pulled up - extending her hand to stop her.

The room was taller than the rest - domed overhead. Rows of… seats, lined the walls - lifted up from the ground by a fifteen foot wall. This was the arena - where Hephaestus's weapons were put to the test… as were those who wielded them.

Adrian's eye twitched just barely in the memory of many a battle here - as friend, and foe to the castle alike. But it seemed echoingly empty, devoid of any threat. He would not be so easily fooled. The trenches in the ground were leftover from great battles - now used to funnel blood into the drainage system beneath them.

It was only after he drew his sword, that he allowed them to continue across the great chamber towards the other door, leading into the fires of the forge itself.

"Really wish I had a weapon," Veil said beside him in a sing-song voice.

Two thirds of the way across the room, his fears were made manifest. The sound of chain rattling on wheel, of a great gateway opening up - and they both turned to watch as a massive portcullis in one wall raised upwards, disappearing into the wall.

An immense thudding of heavy, gigantic metal boots shook the floor - which seemed impossible, given the thickness of the stone.

What lumbered out of the darkness was nearly twenty feet tall - armored head to toe in thick, spiked platemail. Glowing green eyes shimmered inside the helm - revealing that there was no physical form driving the armor.

It roared - a deafening double-toned noise that was both a base rumble and a high pitched shriek that had Veil covering her ears. It stormed towards them, an axe in both hands - moving with more speed than something of its great girth had any business being able to conjure.

Adrian darted out of the way - knowing at least that Veil could handle herself, armed or not as the case may be. Axe dragged through stone at his heels, and he heard the creature trace his steps in the stone with the massive blade.

"How do you stab something without squishy bits?!" Veil screamed as she disappeared and reappeared - at least serving to distract the monstrous suit of armor, if she couldn't hurt it.

Adrian leapt into the air - slashing outwards - his blade being more than just shining steel alone. Blue fire burnt from its tip, lancing into the creature and etching a deep scar into the metal. It screamed in pain, reared back - and swiped at him with a heavy gauntlet.

He landed deftly upon its wrist, and used it as a platform to leap backwards - landing in a crouch, as the creature rounded on him once more. If only he wielded the consecrated whip of the Belmonts - this unholy creature would fall to pieces like stale bread.

But, such was not the case. He dodged a swing from the monster, and jumped to slash at it again. His timing was good - but he had not anticipated the creature being intelligent enough to drop one of its axes to the ground in lieu of additional speed. A gauntleted fist smashed into him - sending him rolling to the ground on his side.

Adrian's head spun from the impact - but he was already pushing himself to standing. A metal boot stamped down upon him, crushing him underneath its weight - pinning him there. Adrian looked up at the gigantic creature as it raised its axe over its head with one hand, ready to cleave him in two.

Adrian was about to dissolve to mist and leave the creature disappointed - but found he suddenly… did not need to.

Veil's soul - separated from her body, looking like a ghastly afterimage of the woman - had dashed through the monster's body. For a moment, he wondered if she intended to smash her body against it, which would likely do little damage to something of that size and weight.

But instead, it froze - and he blinked, confused - until he looked slightly to the left, and saw Veil standing there, her hand curled around the throat of another spirit.

It took Adrian a long moment to realize what he was seeing. She was fully physical once more, no longer just her soul. The spirit she held in her clutch - hand wrapped around its throat - was that of a man. He was muscular - almost obscenely so - but it seemed to do him no good as he grasped at her wrists with his translucent hands, eyes wide in panic as it floundered against her.

The most remarkable thing - and what set Adrian's eyes - was the realization that this spirit was connected to the suit of armor. He had once used one of the castle's great telescopes to look out at a distant star - and there, he had seen a solar flare. Great, wisping arcs of power that rose out into the empty space.

What connected the spirit to the suit of armor seemed identical to those great arcs of fire. Or perhaps, it was more like a series of tiny strings - phasing and undulating with power.

This spirit she held… was the spirit that drove the armor. She had yanked its soul free from its frame - and now held it, trapped outside its own form, mercilessly glaring down at it, as it struggled on its knees before her.

His mouth was open in silent cries - but it didn't stop her. She reached out her other hand - and moving it upwards - she caught the strands that connected the two forms in the crook of her thumb. It brightened as the threads condensed in her grasp - becoming a shining cord, ever more like the flares of power of a star.

Once she had them gathered, she wound her hand around them - once, twice - like she meant to gain purchase on some kind of rope. Once more, and she then squeezed it in her hand, clenching it in a fist.

The threads shattered suddenly like they were made of some fine, brittle and carefully blown glass - falling to the ground in shards and splinters. Adrian found himself actually surprised that the pieces made no noise as they fell and vanished as they skittered across the stone.

She had torn its soul free from its body - and shattered the power that kept the two attached. She severed the ties between them like it was nothing.

The disembodied soul now screamed - its eyes screwing shut in agony as she let go of his throat. The soul was suddenly gone like so much dust in a breeze - dissipating like smoke. She seemed unimpressed with the display - and flicked her hand as if to ease a cramp.

A creak of metal armor over him reminded him of his own predicament - and he had to roll out of the way as an axe came crashing to the ground where his head had once been. He dodged the chunks of platemail began to fall away with no power left to keep it cohesive. It collapsed and smashed into the rock as he dodged it, finally standing clear of it as it rattled to a stop.

"Hope you didn't like that guy," she said with a passive shrug. He was beginning to see the slight difference in her humor - between when she meant her words as true levity, and when she was using them to be evasive. She predicted his curiosity correctly, however.

"Veil," he began, and walked towards her - but she was already walking away from him, ignoring him. "What have you just done?" he insisted. His hand clasped around her upper arm, and she looked at him with a sudden anger that he was beginning to recognize. It looked as though she meant to strike him - but stopped herself.

She sighed heavily, and her eyes lost their anger, and instead shifted to his chest, staring straight ahead, unable to meet his gaze. "I pulled his soul out of his body, and severed the link between the two."

"I could see that," Adrian urged, becoming slightly annoyed at her dodging the clear intent behind his question. "How? That is something I have never seen done, except by-" he broke off, realizing the name that was about to leave his mouth.

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner. Give the man a prize." Veil said, and pulled her arm out of his grasp.

He let her go, and she turned around to keep walking through the empty chamber. He followed, unsure as to how to proceed. It was a tender wound she bore, even still - and weaving a careful path with words was not his way. Luckily, she spared him the task, seemingly understanding the importance of explaining the situation.

"I said he took the death away from the corpse that Alistair made. That's true, he did. But they needed three things to finish their game of 'let's play God,'" she raised a hand up and began counting on fingers. "One, a body. Check. Two, life. Check. Three? … A soul. Otherwise they would have just made some kind of mindless zombie." She paused, and sighed. "I wish they had. Azrael took a small piece of his soul - a tiny, itsy bitsy piece, but from an archangel, that's plenty. It was enough to plant the seed for something new to grow. Me."

Adrian watched her, thoughtfully, silently. Turning it over in his mind. She was far more the daughter of Azrael - of death - than she had originally given the creature credit for. "You share some of his gifts."

"Some, but not all, yeah. I can pull people's souls out. I can snap the ties that bind them to their bodies. But I can't ferry them off like he does. Bodies have no place in the spirit world, and spirits have no business being here. They poof."

"Poof?" he asked, unsure. Glad for something to verbally latch onto that wasn't going to tread difficult waters.

She made a motion with her hands of an explosion. "Poof. Cease to be. Cease to exist at all. Gone."

Adrian felt a horror creep up on his soul - she meant that their souls were scattered to the void. No wonder she had not demonstrated this skill before - it was not from fear of telling him the truth - it was the cost of the act.

"So yeah," she spoke again, her voice thick with loathing and sarcasm, pointed squarely inwards at herself. "Hope you didn't like that guy."

Adrian wanted to reach out to her - to try and console her in her anger and her pain. But, he did not. He left her be. Coldness on his part? No, he did not think so. Cowardice? Perhaps. Uncertainty of his own intentions or how they would be received? Without a doubt.

But he was not long in his ruminations. They approached the open gateway that lead to the furnaces of the forge itself. The sound of hammer on steel was nearly deafening now. Hephaestus was hard at work, it seemed.

The hot air rushed over him like he had walked into a door of it. Veil let out a noise and lifted her hand to protect her eyes from the glow and the wave of volcanic heat. "Holy shit," she said aloud at the heat with a laugh. Her exclamation was met with a loud, guttural laugh from deeper inside the forge.

"Come in, boy! Come in! Show me who you've brought with you. Quite a tongue on that one, eh?" The voice was gruff and booming. Adrian stepped through into the forge, passing Veil where she paused in the doorway. He walked across the massive room - and the heat was almost searing him.

He squinted against the heat - and finally caught sight of the man who had spoken. He was a giant creature in both height and width - easily encroaching ten feet tall, and half that in width. His fingers, stumpy, charred, scarred and calloused from heavy work. His skin was a deep brown, and shone with sweat in the immense heat of the forge over which he was hunched.

He was yanking on the chain of a gigantic bellows mounted to the ceiling - and the glowing coals by the wall reacted to the rush of air by glowing brighter. "Good t'see ya, boy! Long time it's been. See yer still wearin' that blade - good, good… Keeping it well kept, are you?"

"Yes," Adrian responded flatly.

"Good boy! We taught you how to appreciate a good blade at least! And jus' as conversational as ever," Hephaestus chuckled. "Although you seem to take much more likin' to that one, aren'tcha? Could hear you two gabbin' all the way here." He boomed with a laugh at that, and dropped his heavy mallet onto an anvil, with a clang that made Veil visibly jump. "Lot quieter now, with everyone off to war."

The lumbering man turned to look at them, and his heavy brow furrowed as he looked over at Veil, and ran a sweaty, calloused hand back over his bald head, shining with the heat. "Can't say I blame ya for talkin' to her instead, she's sure as hell prettier!" He boomed again in laughter, and stepped towards them. Veil took a nervous step back - but Hephaestus was not interested in her. Instead, he slapped a palm on Adrian's back, nearly knocking him to the floor in what he could only assume was a friendly gesture.

"She is in need of a weapon," Adrian said quietly, returning to his stoic pattern that was his normalcy.

"I know, I'm jus' finishin' it now," the monster of a man grinned, several of his teeth missing. He turned to Veil - who withdrew again at the sudden attention, but held her ground. He gave her a scrutinizing look with one eye shut, and held his hand out, palm down, in the air next to her - measuring her. Literally. "You're a wee bit taller than he said, but, it'll do. Better that than shorter!"

"Wait - what?" Veil said, like she missed something. She looked to Adrian, who only gave the barest shrug of his shoulders. He knew no better than she of what Hephaestus was inferring. She looked back to the forgemaster, and repeated herself. "Seriously - what?"

The smith burst out in laughter again, grinning as he walked away from her, enjoying keeping his secret for the time being. He lifted something from his workbench, ran a cloth along it, and in one move, turned - and threw it at her, like a spear.

She squeaked in surprise - but turning sideways, caught it as it whizzed past her - and the momentum of it brought her full circle. She regained her footing, and looked down at what she was holding. The forgemaster had been testing her reflexes - to see if she was worthy of the weapon.

It was a glaive - of sorts. Part staff, part edged weapon. The upper third was a vicious, delicate blade. Fierce, but not overly masculine. It's metal - an alloy of the castle's own creation, as steel would be far too 'crass' for the castle's forge - was tinted blue, save for the razor-sharp edge itself. The blade was serrated - but not in cruel jagged edges, but in curves. The staff itself was a deep black color - and it was impossible for Adrian to tell its make. It seemed to have a strap along it, meant for wearing the item on your back - how thoughtful, he observed.

The end was counterweighted with what looked like a brass carving - a winding sculpture, resembling fire or vines. Writing - in the same language as was on her skin, Enochian - trailed up the blade, etched into its blue surface.

It was gorgeous. It suited her, he thought to himself.

She turned it over in her hand slowly, eyes wide and trying to understand what she was seeing. What it was that she was holding.

"Special order, just fer you," Hephaestus leaned back against his workbench, massive trunk-like arms crossed over his chest. He was proud of his work - exceptionally so for this piece, it seemed. "Really got ta focus on it, with all the idiot rabble around here cleared out."

"Ordered by whom?" Adrian asked, and the smith only grinned broader - loving that he had a secret. "What does it say?" Adrian asked her, instead.

Veil traced her finger along the writing, mouthing something to herself - before stopping. Whatever Adrian had expected, be it anger, rage - a rejection of the weapon, tears - he had not been expecting her to… laugh like it was the funniest thing she had ever read.

She almost doubled over in true, legitimate laughter - her hand over her face as it rendered her unable to speak. Adrian looked to Hephaestus - who only shrugged. "Jus' carved the squiggles he told me to."

"You stupid, cocksucking son of a bitch," Veil said - although her tone of voice did not match her insult. It seemed almost resigned to a faint kind of reluctant affection, instead. She was also not talking to either of them - instead to whomever had ordered the blade's construction, by way of turning the glaive over in her hands again. "I'll give it to you, asshole, that's fucking funny..."

"Like I said, a tongue on her," the smith said to him with a wink. Adrian bristled at the insinuation.

Veil, finally able to breath, wiped her hand across her eyes, to dry the tears that the peals of laughter had caused. "It says," she paused, trying not to laugh again. "'With love, from Dad.'"

"Sick sense of humor, on that one, eh?" Hephaestus said with a shrug. "No accountin' for decency in some people. Do you like it, girl?"

"I love it. I really do - it's… amazing," she answered, and gave it a tentative whirl around her hand - spinning it up and over her wrist. Her skill was not only with two batons, it seemed. But neither was his only with a sword. It seemed both of them were home upon a battlefield. "Thank you," she said to him, and he could tell the thanks were sincere.

"My pleasure - what's a 'greek god' to do if not to forge weapons?" he winked at her - and he saw the creature greatly enjoy his non-answer to her question from earlier. It was not altogether unsurprising that the smith had eavesdropped on their approach.

"Mmhm, well, you tell Zeus and Hera I say hi," she responded in a cheeky retort.

"Bah!" the forge master laughed hard and slapped his hand on his thigh. "You keep a hold of that one, boy. I like her. You always been needin' someone to keep you on yer damn toes! Now you two kids bug off - I've got an armory to rebuild!"

He turned with a deep chuckle in his chest, picking the hammer back from the anvil, and returning to the forge, yanking on the heavy chain of the bellows overhead. Adrian gestured that it was time for them to leave, and Veil walked ahead of him, still marveling at the half-staff, half-glaive in her hands.

Adrian couldn't help but find a faint smile on his face as they walked, watching her adjust to the feel of it - spinning it around behind her back, up over her shoulder, over her elbow - smiling brightly in excitement at the new weapon. It suited her far better than the plain, if effective, iron rods.

He was quite relieved, though, that she did not own this new instrument when they had first met. He likely would have not survived their first sparring match, if so. With a sudden thought - he realized she could have torn his soul from his body, at any point during that fight. He was glad she did not see his brow furrow as he debated whether or not she had actually let him win.

* * *

They had been walking for another half hour towards the center of the castle. They were getting closer to the keep, where they'd find Dracula. Veil wasn't sure how she felt about facing off against the vampire king - but at least she had a spiffy new weapon to kill him with.

Sadness hit her for the briefest moment - at the idea that their 'adventure' might be coming to a close. If they find Vlad, and either kill him or 'die' trying - that'd be it. It's not that she liked it here - it was fun, sure, getting into fights here and there, scuffling with monsters.

But she realized she very much did not want to say goodbye to Adrian. She thought through the reaction in more detail - turning it over in her mind, trying to understand where it was coming from. She cared about him - she knew that much, when she had seen him suffering on those chains in Octavian's lair. But to what end?

"Master! I have returned!"

This time, at least Veil kept herself from shrieking like a little girl when the imp burst through the wall. She did still jump at its sudden appearance. Its leathery wings flapping to keep itself hovering in the air.

"Speak," Adrian instructed his familiar.

"I have found the priests! They are with the priest," it said, and then stammered, realizing how silly it sounded. "I mean, they are in the Cathedral."

"Are they alive?" Veil asked - finding their dead bodies wouldn't help them, and she had learned long ago you had to be very specific with your questions when talking to imps.

"Yes! And human, too," The imp giggled. "For now anyway!"

God, she hated imps.

Adrian smirked, seeing the look on her face in response to the imp's appearance. "Thank you. You may go." With a flap and a bow, the imp shimmered and disappeared. Adrian turned his attention towards her. "The cathedral should be near to the throne room. We can retrieve them prior to facing my father. If they are able to fight, they will be a boon."

Veil nodded - agreeing. The more the merrier, in this situation. "Good. I'd like to 'thank' that vampire Lyon for getting us stuck with Octavian…"

Adrian's face darkened as he too, remembered the priest's hand in their defeat. "As would I."

* * *

They were now wandering about his father's portrait gallery. He hated these paintings - they were either uninteresting, or haunted and ergo extremely dangerous. He had torn a few in his day - but they would only reform with each reappearance of the castle. He felt much like Sisyphus, rolling the boulder up the hill for all eternity - only to see it cascade back to the beginning.

These reminders of his pointless struggle did little to help his mood. It was not pointless, he tried to assure himself. You stopped Dracula's return from destroying the world as he sought to do - and now was 'making good' on his oft issued threat.

The rooms of the keep were more well kept, than the abandoned disarray of some of the areas further out from the center. They were warmer, better lit - these were, after all, where the more sentient - more refined creatures of the castle spent their nights.

Adrian found himself suddenly terribly happy that the castle was so abandoned - that the vampires, shapeshifters, and witches that wandered these halls as Dracula's inner circle, were not home. Veil would be a marvel to them - a novelty. A creature that could bleed and never die. The sick sadism shown by Octavian was not a singular anomaly. Indeed, the dark, disgusting fetishes of the residents of the castle seemed to know no end.

He thought back to the times he had fought his father before, and the treks through the castle - succubi and incubi slaking their hunger upon the humans of the villages. Their passions were kinder still, than the monsters that took great delight in the defilement and mutilation of their prey.

The thought of Veil, subjected to such things - raised such an unexpected ire in him, that he had to take a step back from himself to study it. He did not wish such torment upon anyone - but never had it drawn such a reaction from him.

His thoughts were interrupted, thankfully, yet again.

As he rounded the corner in the final series of rooms before the cathedral, Adrian drew his sword. A figure stood in the center of the room, and for the briefest moment he had not immediately seen it. The reason being, that it almost blended in with the wood grain of the gallery floor.

It looked like a doll - or a life-size, wooden marionette. It was about six feet in height, fully proportioned like a human being. But while it was carved to resemble a human's form, it lacked any real detail in the musculature. When Adrian had been young, he had been given art lessons by one of the tutors in the castle. His tutor had used a wooden, poseable miniature maquette of a person to teach proportions and help with poses. This reminded him of one of those faceless, wooden figurines.

It stood there, swaying slightly from one foot to the other - its featureless head lowered. Like a puppet hanging from strings. But these strings did not seem to extend above it into the air - leaving it supported weightlessly with no true attachment to the earth. No, somehow, it seemed as if the puppet was supported by strings that extended downwards. As if its weight were somehow being controlled from the 'wrong' direction.

He reflexively took a defensive stance as it moved - and he looked on in incredulous surprise as it… slumped to the floor. As if the invisible hand that held the puppet aloft had released it.

Like a lifeless puppet, it now lay on the ground, limbs akimbo in an otherwise impossible way, since it lacked any tendons to keep them where they belong.

Adrian approached it, carefully - steps silent on the dark wood floor as he reached it. He nudged it with the tip of his blade - and then his boot. It did not move under its own accord. Adrian knelt down on one knee, to pick up its arm by the wrist - and as he turned it over, the wooden hand fell open, once again with no muscles or tendons to keep the joints from bending in unnatural ways.

The wood surface had been carefully lacquered to give the marionette a deep, rich color. It wasn't until Adrian noted the inlay on the marionette that he felt a sudden recognition and a deep feeling of dread.

On each of its forearms, was engraved a circle, traced by enochian writing. And he could see, from where it lay like a disregarded child's toy, five circles running up its back. Inlaid in shining, intricate detailed gold. Seven circles in total. One for each of the fallen archangels, and their brethren in heaven.

He knew what they meant, only because he had been told that recently. The circles were identical to those inked onto Veil's skin.

Adrian rose from the floor, and turned. When he turned to look at his companion in question, the pit of dismay that had formed in his chest grew deeper.

Veil stood there, dark eyes wide in a look of… sheer terror. Something he had never seen her wear. She had taken the glaive from off her back, and was holding it in front of her, defensively. But her hands were shaking. Her face had lost its color, drained of life in her fear.

She was walking backwards, away from it - slowly, shaking her head 'no' in rapid movements. Adrian had seen this look on many humans before - peasants or townsfolk, faced with the horrors of their nightmares made real. Faced with certain and inevitable death. It was a kind of tangible terror that one could taste in the air. It was primal, ancient - the body reacting only to preserve itself.

"Veil," he said gently, and stepped towards her, a hand outstretched. Trying to calm a deer in the woods.

But she did not look at him - in fact, she may not have even heard him. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest in a way that he had never seen from her. Even enduring the torment unleashed upon her on Octavian's table, she had not been so palpably afraid.

But this puppet - this life-sized marionette bearing her markings - had sent her into a deep panic.

"No…" she moaned out as she continued to retreat - her knuckles gripping the staff in her hands with such a ferocity that they had turned white.

"Veil, look at me-" he tried to break into her reverie - tried to snap her focus on the slumped and lifeless figurine on the floor. His companion had shown nothing but fearlessness in the face of all the castle had to offer.

Adrian had credited it to her upbringing amongst demon worshipers and warlocks - and in light of her immortality. But this figure from her past, had locked her in such terror that he was unsure as to what he needed to do to pull her from its grasp.

He stepped closer to her, placed a hand on her shoulder, and gave it a shake. The jarring movement was enough to get her to look at him - dark eyes saucers as the adrenaline ran through her body like a stampede as she barely was able to focus on him. "Veil - please," he said, unsure for a moment what he was asking of her.

It was then, that he realized he himself had been overtaken with an apprehension and unease at her fearful response. Not just for what the figure upon the floor may portend - but for deep concern for her. To see her like this, so unlike herself, stung at him.

Veil only managed to choke out two words, her voice fractured and split by despair. "He's here…"

* * *

"He's here… No. No. Anything but this. Please, anything but this…"

It took her a moment to realize she had said those words out loud. Adrian was looking at her, concern etched deep into his sharp features.

Veil clamped her mouth shut and felt her jaw twitch as she tried to regain control of herself. She'd rather go back on that table in Octavian's chambers for the next fifty, than this.

Veil's knuckles were white as she held the glaive in her hands like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like it was the only thing in the world that could save her from the thing that had appeared from nowhere, and toppled lifelessly to the floor as soon as they had come into sight of it.

"Veil, please calm down," he said to her, his voice soft, trying to coax her out of her terror.

And maybe, just maybe, she'd have tried to listen. If the wooden marionette had not then begun to move. Veil made a choked whimper in her throat - and it took her a second to realize the sound of complete dismay had come from her.

Her knees almost gave out on her - and she took another step back, and found herself against the wall. There was no more space to retreat. Honestly she was thankful for something to lean on. Something to help support her.

The puppet began to stand - its limbs twisting and rotating to find their proper positions. Its movements were fragmented, jerking and strange. It looked like a movie was being played but with frames removed. It resembled an old silent film, the motions unnatural and harried. Like whatever power that drove it would come in short bursts, driving it forward in staggered, jumpy fits.

Adrian had turned from her, having heard the creaking wood and the sound of its extremities rotating about themselves to find their intended places. It rolled itself to standing - one limb at a time. Finally, it raised its featureless face to look at them.

It took a step towards them, looking just as natural as a puppet - although as if its strings were extended not above it, but below it. Its steps were not light and imbalanced, they seemed heavy and drawn towards the earth. She knew why. She knew where the power came from that was giving it life. Why it seemed to be drawn downwards.

As it stepped forward again - the twitching, broken gait sending it threateningly off balance before gaining its footing once more - Adrian stepped between Veil and the wooden marionette. He was trying to protect her - and it was that action that pulled her out of her terror long enough to be surprised and darkly amused. He couldn't protect her from this thing - no one could.

Adrian moved towards it and raised his sword as if to slice it in half - and the puppet threw its hands over its face and hunched down to protect itself. A gesture of helplessness - of subservience. Adrian faltered, and did not swing. "What is it doing?" Adrian asked her, incredulously.

"Shut up," Veil snapped, her fear slowly shifting to anger.

"I-" Adrian stammered, confused.

"Not you," Veil said with a sigh. "I'm telling it to shut up."

"It's not speaking," Adrian said, no less confused as he took a step back but not letting down his guard. The puppet lowered its hands and straightened up, but didn't make any more forward movements.

"Not that you can hear," Veil muttered in response.

It wasn't speaking in the living world - but in the spirit realm, the soul that had been bound to its wooden body could talk freely. Adrian couldn't hear it, as he wasn't stuck halfway between the world of the living and the dead like she was. "My lady Selina - our Master is overjoyed to see you are well. He comes to offer his aid in these dark times."

"Fuck off," she growled at the puppet, still shaking as she finally pushed off of the wall. "You're full of shit and you know it. And so's he."

"Our Master wishes no harm upon you and your friends. He has sent me to assist you."

"I'll say it again - slower this time. And you bring my message back to 'your Master.'" Veil stepped forward, the knuckles gripping her new weapon just as tightly as she had been, although the terror that she still felt was turning, slowly, into rage. That's an emotion she could do something with. "Fuck. Off!" With the last word she swung her glaive at the puppet - intending to slice it in two.

A gateway opened beneath its feet - a swirling hole into nothingness edged in white lettering. Octavian had used a similar trick - because the magic had been similar. It was dark magic. The puppet fell through the floor before her attack could land - and the hole disappeared a moment later.

Veil almost collapsed to her knees as she felt the aftermath of the adrenaline. She put the blunt end of the glaive against the ground and used it to steady her. She was shaking - and her hand was trembling as she placed her palm against her cheek.

This was bad. Very, very bad.

"Veil - it's markings…" Adrian began, and he had turned towards her now that the puppet had gone. "What was that?"

Veil swallowed thickly in her throat, and didn't look at him. She couldn't. It seemed like every part of her past was coming out to haunt her - to debase her, in front of of the world. Every time he looked at her like that - curious, betrayed - it felt like a stab to her gut. "Please, Adrian…" she begged quietly. "Please don't…"

It seemed his patience with her secrecy had reached its end. He was standing in front of her now - and his voice was low. Angry. "Veil, you must tell me the truth."

She looked up at him, shocked at his tone. She felt her eyes dart between his golden ones - his anger at her left her disarmed. In the absence of the surprise, came a deep guilt. "I.. I'm sorry," she said as she turned away from him. She leaned her glaive up against the wall and kept her back to him. She couldn't look at that perfect face - marred by frustration with her. "I'm not lying to you on purpose - I just…"

"You must stop acting in such a manner."

"Act how, exactly?" she snapped, hatred for herself inspiring her to lash back out at him.

"You know of my past. You know my nature, and of what I entail. Time and time again, your mystery deepens and you seek to hide away from it. You hide from me - why?!" His hand was on her shoulder, and he turned her about to face him. She could have disappeared - could have hit him, could have fought him - but the look of hurt and betrayal on his face, mixed with the anger… pulled the carpet out from under her feet.

"I know," she said to him quietly, her anger melting. Her gaze shifted to focus on the center of his chest, unable to meet his. "I'm sorry, it's just… And you're the one person on this earth who might get what it's like. To hate what you are so much, it eats you alive. What I am is messed up, Adrian. I really am. In more ways than you can imagine. At least you had parents. Real ones. Ones that loved each other. Ones that loved you. Whatever happened after that, at least your whole life isn't built on a god-forsaken, fucking lie." Veil shut her eyes, her head drooping forward, trying to hide behind her blue hair. "I hide it all because it lets me pretend it's not real."

"Tell me what that creature was, and why it shares your markings…"

"That was a servant of Alistair's. Of Asmodeus. It's a wooden puppet, with a willing soul kept bound to it with dark magic." She paused for a long time, and felt tears stinging her eyes. No. No more tears. Not for her. She drew back from him, his hand slipping from her shoulder. "Adrian - I have more in common with that goddamn piece of wood than I have with you. With anyone."

"I do not understand…"

Of course he didn't. How could he?! She rolled up the sleeves of her coat to bare her own markings, and held her arms out to him, forearms up, fists clenched. "That's what these are for, Adrian. That's what these fucking things are really for. They bind a soul with the power of each archangel and fallen one to match it. They bind a soul to a physical object. Or… a body. Like mine…"

She couldn't look at his face. She didn't want to see the horror, the disgust that she knew had to be there. It'd only mirror her own - confirm to her that she was just a sick monster, no better than the creatures that lived here. Maybe she should take her 'father' up on the offer. Move in. Be amongst her own 'people.' Veil released her clenched fists, and let her arms drop - defeated. No. These weren't her 'people' either. She had nowhere to belong. "I didn't tell you this because it makes it real… because I don't want to admit what I am."

"How did he place such marks upon an infant..?" Adrian asked,, his voice stoic and removed of emotion. Carefully guarding any reaction he might have had to what she was saying.

Veil laughed - and it wasn't a pleasant one. She put her hands over her face and the laugh ended with a sad sigh. "You're worse than Richard, y'know that…? You seriously don't miss anything, do you, buttercup?"

"You were not an infant when you were made, were you..?" he asked, dread in his voice.

"No, I wasn't!" she exclaimed angrily, and she had to walk away from him once more - this time leaning up on the wall next to where she had put her glaive. "I wasn't ever a child. I was as you see me now. In all my goddamn glory. I woke up, like this. I don't age. Never did, never will. It seems a small piece of an archangel goes a long way. I had no idea who I was - where I was - who these people were. Enochian is my first language. They said I was something special, something fallen from heaven. They spent thirty years teaching me… English, history, myths and legends… and black magic. I was raised to be a witch - summoning monsters, working the energies of the world to do my bidding. I spent thirty years experiencing life in the care of his cult and worshipers before they killed me for the first time - and it was then, that I was trapped between life and death, like I am now."

Veil wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the floor between her feet. "How am I supposed to explain that to people? How am I supposed to tell you that, and not have you look at me like…" she trailed off, uselessly.

"Can we just go rescue the priests and get on with this?" she asked. Veil pushed off of the wall and reached for her weapon. A gloved hand closed about her wrist, and she stopped - feeling herself waver.

"You were right…" he said quietly, his voice soft. "I had a childhood. I was raised by those who loved me… For better, or for worse, I have happy times on which to draw strength. I think no less of you, Veil - of that I promise." He paused. "But you must promise me in return, that this is the whole of your story - that these surprises are over."

Veil nodded her head - and wondered if he believed her. God damn her to hell. She deserved to rot. Deserved whatever came to her. That was a full blown lie, straight to his face. No, of course it wasn't the whole story. There was one large detail she was leaving out - but she couldn't. Absolutely couldn't let those words leave her mouth. It made her want to be sick, just thinking about it.

He released her hand, and she finished the task of retrieving her weapon. For the first time, she let herself look up at him - and was surprised at the gentleness that she saw there. It was all at once a comfort, and a dagger twisting in her side. Veil knew she didn't deserve it.

* * *

The door to the cathedral was beautiful, she had to admit. The cross that dominated its face was elegant and elaborate. Swirls of vines and arcs completed the gothic appearance. Adrian seemed less impressed - why would he be? He grew up here, after all.

He pushed the double door open with both hands. They had walked in silence since the appearance of one of Alistair's puppets. Veil hadn't wanted to speak - her heart was cinched too tightly in her chest. Adrian seemed no more willing or able to break through the wall between them than she was.

So she let it be. They'd have enough problems in a few minutes anyway, as it was.

The sanctuary of the church was gorgeous - and she was surprised that it wasn't the demonic, twisted version of a cathedral that she had expected. Veil had expected it to match the one in the countryside, where she and the priest had met - where he had imprisoned her. But this one seemed… dark, gothic, embracing the side of the christian faith that others kept buried. But wasn't a perversion like the last place.

Her boots echoed on the stone floor as they walked up the center row, Adrian leading. She had taken her new weapon from off her back - and she was more than a little interested to see how it'd fare in a fight. That, and she was really eager to bash the vampire priest's head in with it.

Adrian paused - and pointed silently. Veil was surprised at how relieved she felt seeing Gabriel and Conrad - each of them lashed to a column by one wall. They were slumped against their restraints - unconscious. Conrad was gagged - which she found extraordinarily funny. They were battered, bloody - but looked as good as could be expected. Veil disappeared - phasing into the spectral world to reach them faster and without interruption.

Adrian kept walking forward, slowly - eyes scanning the church for the vampire priest. It wasn't long before he made himself known, though.

Lyon appeared, standing in front of the altar at the head of the cathedral, golden armored gauntlets already donned. He stepped down the first stair, and paused. "You escaped Octavian, I see."

"For no thanks to you," Adrian responded narrowly.

Veil reappeared behind the column that Gabriel was tied to, and stuck the end of the sharp edged glaive under the rope - and yanked, slicing the rope cords in two. She repeated the same to Conrad, and the two men slumped to the floor.

Veil knelt by Gabriel - and felt for a pulse. Alive. Good. She shook him - and the man let out a small muttered groan. Veil did the same for Conrad - only the Irishman woke with a start, eyes wide and panicking, searching blindly before he… fainted. Veil tried not to snicker. She pulled the gag out of his mouth, and left the two men to sort themselves out on their own terms. Adrian would need help fighting Adrian.

"You are my enemy, Adrian. You saw to that. It pains me to have to pay you such suffering, but your father is my lord, and I must obey." Lyon took another step down the stairs. Adrian had his sword drawn now, and was beginning to feel out the priest for the fight that was about to ensue. "Octavian bargained for you and the young lady. I was asked to assist. In doing so, I bargained for my own prisoners."

"Why? Professional courtesy?" she asked sarcastically as she stood up, facing Lyon.

Lyon glanced at her for a moment before speaking. "If you wish." He took another step down the stairs - now standing flat on the ground. The tension in the room climbed as the fight drew closer. "Forgive me, Adrian - but you cannot be allowed to succeed in your quest. Not yet."

"What do you mean, 'not yet?'" Adrian asked, brow furrowed.

"Your father has reasons behind his actions - as obscure as they may be." Lyon ran two of the sharp claws of his gauntlet together, making a small metallic scraping noise as he did.

"His motives are clear - he wishes to see the world burn," Adrian narrowed his eyes angrily, now.

"Does he truly?"

"Speak clearly, priest," Adrian snapped in response, and lifted his sword. "I grow impatient listening."

"You may stand a chance now that you have so recently fed," Lyon said with a thin smirk, another glance over to Veil. Lyon dogged his strange, leading question that left Veil puzzled. The priest didn't mince words - it meant something. But what?

Adrian had enough and wasn't interested in the coy leading statements anymore. He leapt at the priest with a snarl, his blade slashing through the air. The priest easily dodged.

Veil joined the fray between the two - and she was surprised, and dismayed, at how well Lyon was keeping up with them both. It was a deafening sound of metal on metal - sparks flying as they fought.

Veil dashed her soul at the priest - and followed with a vicious swing of her glaive - he blocked it with both arms - and the impact sent him careening backwards into a statue and tipping it from its base - the alabaster carving losing one of its arms as it smashed into the floor. But her follow up was met with a hard punch from a gold gauntlet in response - one that knocked the wind out of her as she slid across the floor from the blow.

It was a fairly equal match, with Lyon landing as many blows as he was taking.

That was, until a gunshot rang out in the room. Lyon staggered backwards, hissing, gripping a hole in his chest. It had gone straight through him. But missed the mark of his heart by a few inches.

Conrad was standing - as was Gabriel, slowly pulling himself to his feet. Conrad's gun was held aloft, and a thin trail of smoke was exiting the barrel. The redhead sneered. "Hand's shaky. Missed."

Two on one, the priest could handle. Four on one, he knew he couldn't. The priest took another step back - fangs extended in his pain from the blessed bullet. "I am sorry, master Adrian. But you cannot be allowed to continue."

"Tough talk, from swiss cheese," Conrad taunted. "Four on one, m'friend!"

"Is it?" Lyon asked with a faint, sad smile.

Laughter joined the room - a high pitched, very recognisable laugh. Veil groaned and turned to face Death as he floated through the stained glass windows of the sanctuary. Before she could react, death gestured - and she felt something grab her like a vice. A giant, ghastly, purple skeletal hand had risen from the floor and grasped her in its claws. It hurt, and she cried out at the pain as it tightened harder around her. She tried to phase out - but she realized that it wasn't holding onto just her body - it was holding on to her soul, as well.

"You will stay put. I, unlike master Dracula," Death began, gloating over her. "Have no interest in battling my offspring." He twirled his scythe in the air in front of him, and with another hissing laugh, darted forward to attack Gabriel and Conrad. The two priests barely managed to leap out of the way before his scythe split them in two. Instead, the pews behind them met their intended fate - collapsing to the ground from the impossibly sharp blade.

"Let me go!" she snarled and struggled, kicking at the oversized skeletal claw. But it was pointless. The thing had her caught tight, and Adrian, Gabriel and Conrad were now too busy fighting Lyon and Death to worry about her.

Even if she had been involved in the fray - the fight would be a difficult one. Death removed her from the fight not because she'd tip the scales. Veil kicked and struggled, as the hand gripped her even tighter - threatening to crack her ribs. Every time she fought, it squeezed tighter, like a snake. So she tried to relax, and focus instead on breathing. Her head was starting to become fuzzy and light - she couldn't pass out now.

Veil lifted her head as Adrian howled in pain - and she saw him with Lyon's golden claws, deeply embedded in his side. Blood quickly flowed and stained his shirt crimson. If Lyon had pulled his hand back - he'd likely have one of Adrian's kidneys in his fist.

More gunfire - and Lyon was forced to dissolve into mist to avoid being riddled with holes himself. Adrian slumped to the ground, his hand pressed to the side, fangs extended as he hissed in pain.

Gabriel had been tangling with Death - launching fire, ice - whatever he could think of at the floating spectre. But one human priest of the holy order stood little chance against a creature like that. One of death's smaller whirling blades had knocked Gabriel to the ground - and now Death rose his blade over his head to end the priest's life.

They were going to lose.

Instead, blade met wood as it swung downwards. "What?!" Death exclaimed in confusion - at the wooden marionette standing in front of him that had blocked his strike. Veil let out a moan of dismay at the sight of it. Of them.

Four of the wooden puppets had risen from the ground - from swirling portals that had appeared there. Each of them was made of a different kind of wood, giving it just a barely separate appearance from its brethren.

Death's scythe had been stopped by the marionette - but it had cut through the wood. Its hand fell to the ground with a rattle, and it seemed unphased by its wound. The wooden monsters had not come here to fight, though… they had come to rescue.

One already had Adrian by the arms - another had Conrad. They stepped through the swirling portals in the floor - taking the men with them. A wooden puppet - one made of walnut, stepped up to her, and holding out its hands - shattered the spell that held her in place. She fell to the ground - and instantly tried to escape - tried to get away from the marionette. But it had already opened a hole in the ground beneath her - and she was halfway through it before she even realized what it had done.

Veil hit the ground with a hard thud, and a grunt of pain. She pushed herself up - and tried to figure out what she was looking at. A floor. But like, a tile floor. Castles don't have linoleum. A pair of feet - wearing a nondescript pair of brown shoes - walked into her field of vision. Pushing her blue hair out of her face, she looked up.

The figure she saw, standing there in a dark green suit coat, she didn't recognize. The man had trimmed brown hair, and was looking down at her in concern. He reached down to give her a hand up. While she didn't know his face - the symbol on his lapel - the pin that he wore there, made from delicately crafted gold, she did recognize. Alistair. His cult. They were here - all of them.

She scooted away from the man quickly - withdrawing like he was the devil himself. She pushed herself to her feet - and realized she was holding her glaive - the puppet had taken it with her, and she had reflexively picked up her weapon. Wide eyed - terror making her heart pound in her ears - she held the point of her weapon at the man.

He merely raised his hands as if to show he meant her no harm.

The puppet in question was standing beside the man in the green, well tailored suit. She saw Adrian, Gabriel and Conrad strewn likewise around the room. Picking themselves up, except for Adrian - who was kneeling, his side still bleeding profusely. She'd rush to help him - but she had her own worries right now.

The man in front of her dropped to one knee at her feet, head bowed. "Lady Selina… I am Gustav Wolf. We are at your service."


	10. Chapter 10

**Here's the next one! It came a lot faster than I'd thought. It's amazing how some scenes just take off while others need time to percolate. The next one'll be out today as well - as I wrote this bit out of order. If you like, let me know! :)**

* * *

" _Fuck off!"_

Adrian didn't need to ask who had screamed that across the room, even with his head lowered. The priest had come very close to killing him in a single blow - and he was breathing laboriously through his teeth. His body was healing itself - thanks to Veil's lingering gift - but it was not a pleasant process to endure.

A hand at his elbow made him jump and growl at whoever was in front of him. A young woman - blonde, recoiled from him, her hands up to say that she meant him no harm. "Let me help you," she said quietly. Her face was kind - warm - not what he had expected from a minion of a fallen archangel. A simple, gold cross hung around her neck. The presence of it was more effective than a slap across the face, such was his shock.

"No," he growled, and pushed himself to standing - the hand against the floor leaving a bloody print in its wake.

They were in the lobby of a building, it seemed. Plush, patterned furniture was scattered about the room, tables dotting here and there - the electric lights cast the room in an unkind and artificial light. The sky, visible through the glass windows that lined the front of the building - was dark, and burned red with an unnatural glow. It was a glow he knew - a city on fire.

They had been taken from the castle, it seemed. Swept by magic to some nearby town. What manner of building they were standing in, it took him a moment to understand. But a sign upon the desk read, in several languages, one of which being english 'Hotel Check-In.'

The young woman in front of him reached to a table nearby, and there were several rolls of gauze, and medical supplies. She placed it closer to him - and with a bow of her head, turned to walk away.

He was confused, to say the least. A scan of the room revealed that there were half a dozen of these unknown people - each wearing a pin on their lapels that revealed to whom they swore fealty. Asmodeus, he guessed, by the wooden puppets that were now slinking away to stand against the walls. One still lacked part of an arm.

But there were a few others that did not seem to share such allegiance. Conrad and Gabriel were being helped to their feet by several people that they seemed to recognize - talking quietly in Italian, discussing what had transpired. Members of the holy Order.

"What has happened?" he caught Gabriel say - although Adrian's Italian was out of practice.

"They have come - from the archangel. They say he is here to help - they saved our lives," one of his cohorts that Adrian did not recognize replied. He puzzled at the words - that they would align themselves with Asmodeus.

"Bullshit," Conrad said with a laugh - that time in english. He snapped back to his Italian, which was even poorer than Adrian's, and thick with his Irish lilt. "You're kidding me."

"It is truth! Cardinal Leone is… is dead. We are awaiting orders - but we worry none will come," the other order member answered. "They told us you two might yet live - that they would seek to rescue you both. We stayed in hopes such things were true."

Adrian lost track of the conversation then - their Italian too modern, and too quick for him to follow now. So there were those that served Asmodeus - those that served the Order… Veil, himself, and one other.

One man seemed out of place. Dark brown hair, greying at the temples - concern etched deeply into his features. He was stepping towards Veil - and it was only upon seeing him, that the fury and terror on her own face skipped a beat.

"Richard..?" she asked, astonished and confused - and relieved. Her glaive clattered to the ground as he rushed forward to hug her - and she returned it, wrapping her arms around him and squeezed him as though she was certain they would never meet again. And likely, they had both believed it to be the case. "You're alright!"

"I'm fine - but not because of anything I did."

"What happened?" she asked, finally letting go to step back, to look up at his aging face. This was her friend that she had spoken of - the young boy she had rescued many years ago. Perhaps one of her only friends in this world.

"The blockade was overrun. The armies you sent a photo of - they… washed over the military like they were nothing. We're back in Brasov now. We had to retreat. They're burning everything - everything they come across is gone," his finished, his face was now creased in sorrow.

Adrian listened, silently, as he went about bandaging the wound on his side. Mostly to stop the blood from ruining more of his clothing, than to aid in the healing process. The wound was nearly closed, now - but it stung no less.

Veil swore under her breath.

Richard turned to look at the man in the green suitcoat, who had stood up from his kneel at Veil's feet, to stand quietly and unassuming - waiting. "We'd be dead, if it weren't for them."

"Richard-" Veil warned. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"They have an army of their own. Hundreds and hundreds, maybe thousands of people - from all over the world, here - to fight. And they're holding them back. Dracula's forces can't get past them." Richard said, hope tinging his voice.

"What have they done to you, Richard…?" Veil grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away from the watchful eyes of Gustav - walking over to Adrian instead. "Snap out of it," she hissed at her friend.

"I'm not - I know who they are, Veil. I know what they've done - but it's the truth. Alistair's army is holding back Dracula's. They're helping. That's fact."

"They're helping because they _want something-"_ Veil argued angrily in hushed tones, and jabbed a finger into her friend's chest with each of the following words. "You know how this shit works."

"I do, I know I-" Richard looked up at Adrian, and his face went white - and he stammered off into a meaningless series of noises. "I-er-eh-uh…" he coughed, hard, as if that were the problem, and he looked squarely down at his feet.

Adrian looked at Veil with a raised eyebrow, as if to ask what had caused the man to malfunction so.

Veil tried not to laugh, staring up at the sky as if to ask 'why me?' She let out a long breath and looking back to Adrian's silent question, mouthed what might have been the words 'fan' followed by 'boy.' But they made absolutely no manner of sense to him, so he must have read them wrong.

"Is that… Is that-" Richard broke off, still staring at his shoes.

"Yup," she responded. "In the flesh." Even in light of the situation, she was deriving great pleasure from her friends discomfort. But there was business to attend. "We have to leave. We have to get away from them."

"Veil, the city is burning… there's nowhere to go. This is where the fight is." Richard had turned his attention back up from his footwear, but now, kept sending darting glances in Adrian's direction - which mystified him as to why.

"Then we move to another building," she said flatly. "I am not staying here with _them._ "

"The city's in ruins. They only managed to keep this place standing, and barely. We'd be without power, but this place has a generator," Richard pointed out, trying to be the voice of logic. "This place has water, heat - power - nowhere else does."

Veil sighed deeply, angrily. "Richard… snap the fuck out of it, will you?!"

Richard finally took her by the upper arms - trying to be insistent, but not forceful. "Listen, Veil. I know who they are. Trust me. I know _what they've done to you._ I don't know their game - but they are the only thing stopping Dracula's forces right now. What I saw those monsters do to the people at the blockade - what I saw them do to the people here, before Alistar's people showed up - I can't - I-" Richard stammered again, his face contorting in pain and fear, reliving his recent trauma.

Veil let out a breath and held her friend close in a hug again. Richard accepted it, and lowered his head. "I'm not like you, Veil," he murmured, pulling away from her once more. "I can't see all that and just… just keep going. I don't know what their game is… I don't know what their ulterior motive is. I just know that right now, they are the _only thing_ that is keeping Dracula from destroying everything in his wake."

"Fine. Let's find out." Veil's voice was hard, and dark - and she stormed away from the two of them. She retrieved her glaive from the floor - and then made a line for Gustav. "C'mere, fuckface-" Her hand twisted in the man's shirt collar, and he let out a yelp as Veil began dragging him for the door. "Let's have a little _chat,_ huh?!"

The sudden attack had the room screeching to a halt, as Gustav stammered pleas for her to release him. But she was uninterested, and instead forcefully kicked the door open to the street outside. She violently threw the man ahead of her, sending him toppling down the cement stairs and to the street below.

Richard sighed, hard. "I should stop her before she kills him," he said as he walked away from Adrian.

Adrian knew he should follow for a similar reason - if not that, then the curiosity that burned within him. More windows into her former life opened before him, and he could not help but peer through. They followed her outside, with a few of Gustav's fellow cultists following behind them. But they kept their distance - not seeming to wish to interfere.

"What's your play?" Veil demanded of the man who was just now getting back to his feet. "Huh?! I didn't hear you!" She swung the blunt end of her glaive out for the back of the man's knees, which crumpled him once more to the black, tar-like pavement. She stood over him then, the pointed end of her staff touching his neck, digging into it enough to draw a thin line of blood. "I'll kill you. Right here, right now. You know I have no problem with that."

"I know-" Gustav choked out, his hands trying to keep the blade from tearing open his throat.

"And I'll sleep better, knowing I did. So tell me the game. Tell me why the _fuck_ that piece of shit has you here masquerading around like you're the 'good guys.'" She dug the blade harder in with her expletive, and he gagged and winced in pain.

"Veil-" Richard tried to interrupt, but she was having none of it.

"Stay out of this, Richie. I don't know how they got into your head, but they did."

"Lord Alistair sent us here to stop - to stop Dracula. To help you kill him. He wants to protect this earth - the people on it!"

"Bull _shit-_ " Veil snarled angrily down through clenched teeth. "Try again!"

"It's true!" Gustav yelled, through a sob. "He only told us what to request of you, if - if -"

"If what?!"

"If our forces weren't enough to stop him!" he finished, his eyes screwing shut for a moment in fear, knowing she would kill him.

" _Liar!"_ Veil screamed.

Her eyes were wild - she was losing all grasp of what she was doing. Adrian stepped forward, and placed a gloved hand on her shoulder. "Enough, Veil…"

"Not you, too-" She glared at him. Dark eyes, awash with fury, pain, heartbreak and fear, all rushing together and battling for control. She was frantic.

"Not like this," he said quietly - insistently. Murder like this was cold - unjustified. The man was helpless. His words did their deed, and she shakily raised her glaived weapon and took a step back from him. Gustav's hand went to his throat, but he made no motion other than that to defend himself. Despite the gun that Adrian saw tucked into a holster at the man's side, he made no motion as if to use it.

"We were ordered to bring our forces here, to defend humanity as best we could. Only if we began to lose ground, were we told to interact with you at all. He instructed us to leave you be - to make no attempt to reach you, unless the situation became dire."

"I don't believe you," Veil growled. "I know him, asshole. I know it's just a sick game!" She went to move forward again, to attack the man once more - but Adrian kept his hand on her shoulder. A small press of his hand was enough to stop her. Adrian knew the gesture was not enough to restrain her truly - but she managed to keep herself in check, as though his touch grounded her.

Gustav managed to shakily get to his feet. "My lady… please. We mean you no harm. I am telling you the truth."

"Where is he, then?" Veil asked, with no small edge of fear in her voice. Adrian could feel her taut beneath his hand - ready to snap at any moment. Ready to kill, or flee.

Gustav hung his head. "Our master does not walk this plane, my lady. Not since… not since you struck him down." Veil didn't answer for a long moment, confusion and disbelief overriding her features. Gustav kept speaking, in her silence. "Since you destroyed his body - he has been unable to walk this earth in physical form. In that, is our plight, and our plea. If we are truly to defeat Dracula - to drive back his hordes - we need him here. We need you to bring him back."

Veil laughed sharply, and this time broke free of his hand as she stepped _away_ from Gustav. "No. Not now, not ever. See?!" she shouted at Richard, who jumped back at her sudden redirection of anger in his direction. "I told you they had a fucking game! They're only here to get me to bring back _their_ master!"

"Our master means this world no harm! He never has - you know that!" Gustav cried. Veil went to charge at him again, and Adrian redoubled his efforts - standing perpendicular to her. His hand shifted to her other shoulder - to gently place his arm between the two. Gustav, seeing her pause, continued to speak. "He has been on this plane of existence since great King Solomon drew him here. Since he was summoned to this world _by_ a human! He means mankind no harm - indeed, he means now to save it! Alistair has vowed to stand beside you in this fight, and then leave you be, unharmed and untouched - and free to go your own way. Please," Gustav implored her. "Please… if we are to survive - if the lives of our people, and the people of this earth are to continue - we need him."

"Can I kill him? I really want to kill him," she asked Adrian, her body shaking in rage.

"Veil," he said quietly back to her. "Calm yourself. They are only words he speaks."

"Sirs," Gustav addressed Adrian and Richard. "Our master means you all no harm - he means only to protect this world. My words are truth, ones she cannot deny. Alistair has walked this earth for millenium - unchecked and unchallenged. Why? For he did this world _no wrong._ No suffering. No torment wrought to even hold a candle to that of Dracula. He walked this earth freely until she struck him down. For valid reasons, I admit - in her anger and hate, for which she has every reason and right to feel. But we cannot let their history cloud what needs to be done!"

Veil slung the glaive over her shoulder, and seemed to take a moment to think about Gustav's words. Adrian kept close to her - wishing to support her in some way he knew not how.

Veil then seemed to make up her mind. Adrian staggered back suddenly as her palms met his chest and pushed him backwards. The sudden movement made him almost lose his balance entirely - and he only just managed to remain standing.

"I'm not doing this. I'm not listening to him - I'm not listening to any of you. Fuck all of this. Let Dracula burn this world to the ground, for all I care!" she shouted.

It was Richard's turn. "Please, Veil - you don't mean that, do you?"

"I think I do, Richie - I really think I do," she said through a sarcastic laugh. "What do you think I should do, huh? Bring that asshole back into this world?!"

"Dire needs make strange bedfellows," Richard advised. "I'm not saying I like this. I'm really not. I really don't."

"You knew, didn't you?!" she accused him - stomping towards her friend and grabbing him by the front of his shirt. "They told you what they wanted me to do. And you still stood there?! You're still okay with this?!"

"Veil, please!" Richard exclaimed. He begging her, trying to reason with her through her anger. "Please, listen to me…"

"Then talk, Richie. I'm all ears." She pushed away from him and held out her arms at her sides. "Tell me how this isn't just one big stab in the back."

"You know I hate these kind of people just as much as you do. They took my family, Veil. If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead, too. I owe you everything. But these are _not those people._ What's the difference between a cult, and a religious sect? Murder. Torture. Evil. How many people have we found, worshiping some little known demon - only to leave them alone, because they hadn't done any wrong? Their choice of god doesn't make them worthy of death. You and I agreed on that."

"I know that," she snarled at him.

Richard continued. "Tell me the last time Alistar's people did any of that. Tell me the last time they killed people, stole from them, manipulated them. We have no record of it - not in the last hundred years! And not from lack of our searching for it!"

"I'll tell you when they did, _Richard-_ " she spat his name out angrily. "When they made _me."_

"Are we not allowed to find retribution for our sins?" Gustav added. "Alistair mourns deeply for the pain he caused you, and the others he-"

"Shut the _fuck up-"_ Veil snarled at him, pointing a finger in his direction. "Before I use you to teach the meaning of the phrase 'curb stomp' to Adrian here."

Meanwhile, Adrian felt like a hapless bystander witnessing some great greek drama play out before his eyes. He wished to leap upon the stage and stop the show - to rewrite the dialogue. But he felt immensely unwelcome in matters he was not directly involved.

Richard stepped back towards Veil. "They're here to _help._ I saw it with my own eyes. If we need Alistair to stop Dracula - to stop the… the horrors they've done. The horrors they continue to do - then fine! Bring him back. Bring him back here, to stop all this - and then if he turns out to be what we think he is - we stop him, too."

Veil laughed, a sick, sad laughter. She turned to Adrian, and the sudden inclusion was worse than the exclusion. He wished to be back in the stands, watching from afar. "What do you think, buttercup?"

Adrian hadn't even thought that far through the matter at hand. He looked for a long time at his friend - and he stopped harshly in his tracks at he realized he now thought of her as such a thing. Caught up in this new realization, unable to decide what he thought about it, he waited too long.

"Well?!" Veil demanded angrily.

"I-" Adrian began, and was honest with her. An undebated, unthought, instinctual response. "I do not know."

That was as good as a vote on behalf of the fallen archangel in her mind. She stormed away from them all, throwing the door to the hotel open in her rage - nearly shattering it.

The three men left standing there in her wake - Gustav, Richard, and Adrian - could only watch uselessly as she exited abruptly. It was one way to stop an argument, he had to admit.

"I'll go after her," Richard began with a sigh.

"No," Adrian interrupted. Another unchecked response from his own mind. Adrian knew not what inspired him - he did not like to have to think so quickly on his feet about his opinions. "I will."

Adrian was glad to abandon 'Gustav' and this 'Richard' - who was still looking at him like he were the moon itself come down to earth, a reaction he still did not understand - upon the sidewalk. He walked into the building, pushing past the cultists who watched the scene unfold, agog.

He did not like being on display - he did not like being in the public eye. Indeed, he preferred the shadows. Solitude. His carefully crafted mask of indifference was one to keep himself as undesirable company. And for this precise reason. Emotional connections were… messy. Entangling. Complicated. And in his world, defined by loss and the passage of empty time, they were needlessly painful.

But, as it had just occurred to him but moments prior - the firebrand he had been traveling with, had leaked past his defenses. Moved closer into his heart than he would care to admit.

She had taken the stairs - and he heard her heavy booted steps as he deftly wound his way up after her. Taking the stairs two, three at a time to catch up. A door out to the hotel hallways was almost finished closing as he approached it - and stepped out from the stairwell.

A hallway on an upper floor was what greeted him. Hotels seemed to be little changed since the taverns of his day - boarding rooms in lines, arranged efficiently for their purpose. He heard a door slam shut with the resounding impact of wood meeting jamb. He walked after her, and found the door in question. It was, as the noise indicated - shut.

Adrian knocked on the door. Wondering if it was the right room, when no one responded. Perhaps he had the wrong door after all. He knocked once more.

"Fuck off," came the voice from the other side.

Yes, definitely Veil's room.

Adrian sighed - and decided he did not like the idea of arguing with his… 'friend' from either side of a wood door. Instead, he took the form of mist, and slipped underneath the gap of the door. He reformed on the other side - and felt the blade of her glaive against his throat as he did.

"That's not just a little pervy," Veil glared at him.

Another word he did not understand. Yet, he grasped its meaning well enough. He pushed the blade away with the back of his hand, and she let him. It was a false attack and they were both well aware of it. Conceding that she had no intention of killing him, Veil put her weapon up against the wall, and walked away from him.

The hotel room seemed to be more of a suite than a single room for sleeping. A large center table, dotted with chairs - and covered with papers and notes. He walked towards it, and looking down - he saw sketches of monsters he recognized. One, two - three, he counted, of his father. And one, interestingly enough… of himself. He placed his gloved hand against the paper, and slid it towards him - narrowing his eyes down at it curiously.

"Richard's notes. Most of that's from the Belmont journals. If I weren't so angry, I'd have really introduced you two. I've never seen him go full four-alarm 'babbling idiot' in front of someone before."

Ah. So that is why the man seemed so without mind in his presence. He was intimidated by his 'fame' it seemed. Adrian made a small, single and silent laugh at the thought that he was 'famous' to someone.

But he could ponder of that another time. Adrian looked up to his friend, who was standing looking out at the burning city. Indeed, it was a roaring inferno in the distance - the city of Brasov was in ruins. Most of the buildings nearby had no intact windows - indeed, was remarkable that this one faired nearly as well as it had. If Richard was correct, that was attributable to the work of Gustav and his allies. The city's people were dead, gone - or now part of the army of the dead that had overtaken them.

"Veil," Adrian began - although to be honest, he had little idea of where he was attempting to guide the conversation.

"The answer is no," she answered, turning to face him. "You can't possibly tell me you're on their side."

"I am on _your_ side," he insisted. "But… we lost that fight, Veil. We would have died in that cathedral, if not for Alistair's people."

Adrian removed his gloves, and let them fall on the table. There were two ways this conversation might go - and one involved violence. If that were the case, he would do so without the fabric to separate them. He stepped towards her, hand outstretched to touch her shoulder gently. She swatted it away from him, and her eyes narrowed in a glare.

"You're falling for it! You're falling for their goddamn lies! I thought if anybody around here could see through their steaming piles of bullshit, it would've been you." She stepped back away from him - hurt and angry. "The priests looked fine with it. And then Richard. And now you? No. I won't. I don't care!"

Adrian shut his eyes, and shook his head. This was not his intention. "We are not enough to stop the armies of my father."

"Then we go back in there, and we stop Dracula. Like the original plan." Veil was now pacing the room angrily.

"We _lost,_ " he reiterated. "Death knows how to restrain you, it seems - and if we cannot win a battle with him and Lyon, we cannot win versus my father."

"Then how did you beat him before?"

Adrian felt himself cringe. "I have grown weak over the centuries, removed from life, and…"

"And not feeding," Veil finished for him. Adrian nodded once. "Then fine! Bite me, drink me dry however times you need to - and we march back in there. I'd rather do that a hundred thousand times than… than let that creature back into this world."

"My father has never, not once, gone to this length to destroy the world. I fear… some influence has fallen over him. That we may not be enough to end this."

"Switch roles, then. Your father wants to join _our_ side to stop Alistair's evil army. What do you do?"

It was a fair question, and one he took the time to think through. "I would be doubtful. Reticent. Reluctant and angry, just as you are now. But… if my father even but gave me the word that he wished to rejoin this world… to live within it, and not in spite of it… I would accept it. I would not turn my back to him in trust - but neither would I turn my back on his help."

Veil shook her head - overwhelmed at his seeming ignorance. But it seemed she was unable to retort his reply to her question. She walked away from him, putting her palm up against the glass of the door to the balcony that overlooked the burning city. "Go away, Adrian. I'm not having this argument with you."

"Answer me this: Can Alistair aid us, in this fight?" he asked, walking up behind her gently. How he wanted to touch her sapphire hair - but he withheld the strange and sudden urge.

"Yeah," came her unhappy admission.

"Would he do so, as he promises? Is he a creature of his word?" Veil sighed darkly - angrily - and that was as much of an answer as he needed. Yes, he was. "What keeps us from raising him from the dead - allowing him to aid us in this fight - and then slay him once more?"

"You don't _get it,"_ she said angrily, her other hand curling into a fist.

Adrian reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Help me understand." And then, came the inescapable words brought so foolishly out of his mouth like a bull at a banquet. "Help me understand why you fear him so."

Her fist met his jaw with a sharp crack, and he staggered backwards, his hand going to the offending location. Veil was pushing him back, then - and he wound up stuck between her fury and the table in the center of the room. The pain in his jaw had faded as quickly as it had come. But the insult had riled him, even more so than the pain.

"You don't understand what you're talking about," Veil snarled up at him.

"Would you let your fear of him, destroy this world, as you threatened moments ago?" Adrian asked her, feeling his own anger rise. "Would you not sacrifice yourself to save others? I thought you noble. Perhaps I was wrong."

She stormed away from him - but he followed after her, a step behind. Adrian grasped her shoulder. "I said _go away!_ " she screamed.

Another fist swung towards his head, and he caught her wrist to keep it from landing. He didn't expect the knee to his stomach, though - that sent him staggering backwards with an 'unf,' the hand that had been clasping her wrist going to where she had hit him. "You're so fucking intent on killing your dad, can't you see what you're doing?! Alistair is _evil,_ Adrian! He's a fucking _fallen archangel -_ he's older, more powerful, and more dangerous that Vlad ever was!"

Adrian straightened up to deflect another hit, and one more - and she was keeping him on his heels - unable to get enough purchase to stop her. Finally, he managed to push her away from him long enough to speak. "Tell me that the man Gustav spoke false. Tell me that Alistair has not been on this earth in human form since the time of Solomon the King."

Veil's hands were fists at her sides - and she was fuming with rage. Namely, because his words were striking paydirt. He saw the pain in her eyes at them, even as it fueled the fire. "Tell me that he has made designs upon the death and enslavement of mankind." She was silent, still - glaring at him as if she meant to set him aflame with her mind alone. "The city burns - you saw his armies. That is but one part of the force he has unleashed. How many more thousands still march towards other cities, that would meet this same fate?"

"Shut the fuck up, Adrian!"

"He has lived upon this earth in one form or another since the time of Solomon the King - and he has never once waged war upon it such as my father has!" Adrian felt his voice become louder to combat her angry shouting.

"So he's the lesser of two evils, then?! That's why we're doing this?!" Veil swung her leg at him in a vicious kick. He jumped backwards to let it sail past him. Snarling, she stormed away from him, going for the door back to the stairs.

No. Adrian would not let her go once more without facing the truth of the matter. Without listening to him. He caught her wrist in his hand - and her other fist swung to meet him. He caught the other wrist, just the same.

Dark, furious eyes glared up at him in response. "Let me go, Adrian," she warned him dangerously. 'Or else,' was the implied second half of the sentence.

"Tell me then, of the wrong that Asmodeus has done on this earth. Tell me of the lives he has taken. Tell me of the horrors he has wrought this earth. Tell me, if the number of souls he has tortured and put to death even begins to rival that of my father's. If it is even but a fraction to what my father has done upon this earth, then I will stand beside you in this decision."

She yanked on her wrists, and her jaw twitched in anger. But she did not answer. "You are his daughter," Adrian prompted, and then saw his immediate mistake.

Veil vanished from his grasp, phasing her body out to the spirit world. Adrian was holding onto empty air. Suddenly, she impacted into him and sent him flying backwards. His flight was halted by the wall - if barely. It cracked around him, and as he fell to the floor, the plaster of it rained down around him. At least she pulled her blow, he thought. Normally, a hit from her would have sent him clear through the wall of the hotel without question.

"Don't you _ever_ call me that," she seethed.

Very well. If she wished to engage in fisticuffs, he would oblige. He used his supernatural speed to stand and swing at her all in one movement. She barely managed to pull herself out of the way as his hand narrowly missed her chest. But he managed to turn the blow, digging his elbow into her ribs and sending her crashing into the table in the center of the room. The impact sent her up and over it - but she never hit the floor. She was gone - disappeared to the spirit world once more.

He stood there, and waited - letting his senses try and tune into where she could be. She materialized to his side - and in that blick of an eye he managed to deflect her blow - if barely. He hissed - his fangs extended in pain as she landed a punch to his side. She had used her soul ahead of her body - and therefore the inertia generated by her body 'catching up' to impart more force into her blow than she would otherwise be able to create.

Another foot to his ribs sent him backwards, sailing through a chair that shattered with his impact - the wood splintering around him like so much kindling. Her follow-up blow met empty air as he turned to mist - reforming a second later behind her.

A second chair met the same fate as the first, this time with her body crashing through it instead. She stood up, and threw one of the pieces of splintered wood at his head - and he ducked it as it hit the wall behind him, shattering a painting in its glass frame behind him. He went for a kick - and she dodged it. It allowed him to grasp her arm and spin her about, placing his arms around her in a grappling headlock.

"Enough!" he growled, feeling his fangs prick against his lower lip. Hunger surged abruptly through him, and he was taken aback by the instantaneous response. Her body was hot against his, and he was distracted by the feeling of her, writhing against him.

But he was suddenly holding air - and then staggering forwards as she kicked him in the back from where she had rematerialized behind him. He heard her boot crunch a piece of splintered wood beneath her feet - and he used that to judge precisely where she was standing.

He stood up and swung in one movement again - using all he had, to land the palm of his face squarely to the side of her head. She staggered backwards from the blow - her hand cupping her face where he had struck her. Pulling her hand away, he had split her lip - and there was a thin trail of blood on her hand. Dark eyes, alight with fury, met his gold ones in a glare that was meant to promise payback ten fold for the damage.

No. This was over. Adrian grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her into the wooden beam in the center of the room. His fingers dug into her thin shoulders, and he felt her press against him, trying to push him away. That same hunger, fueled by adrenaline and violence, surged harder to the surface. He knew she could escape - but she chose not to. Chose to keep the fight physical - for what reason, he did not know.

She was beautiful in her fury - eyes a dark storm in midnight seas. Adrian struggled both with her squirming for freedom, and what was suddenly pounding through him in a vicious fire.

Veil struggled, managed to push off from the beam before he pressed her back against it. "Stop," he ordered through clenched teeth. She tried to escape him one more time, and he insisted once more in turn, his fingers wrapping around her shoulders to press her firmly into the wood beam. "Veil, _enough_!"

His heart was pounding in his ears. His breath was heavy as his mortal half sought to keep up with the fight. But in truth, it was not the sole reason for his state of being. Adrian was not a man of passion. It had always been foreign to him - how people could be so swept up in something as they acted irrationally. How they could become so not like themselves, in a single moment of intensity.

But the adrenaline, the violence - the feel of her - the angry, fiery glare of the creature before him. He knew not what he wanted - could not reason his way through what had him in its grasp. He could not think of what to say, what to do. He only knew he wanted one thing - only wished to do one thing. He was too weak to resist it.

Adrian's lips crashed against hers.


	11. Chapter 11

***Coughs.* Incoming M rating, friends. :P**

* * *

"Veil, _enough!_ "

It was so unlike the vampire to shout, that it stilled her attempts to escape. But that didn't keep her from glaring up at him like she wanted his face to burst into flame.

Veil's heart was pounding in her ears as she looked up at the blond vampire. His hair had fallen in long tendrils around his face, and his gold eyes were narrowed in frustration as he kept her pinned against the thick wood beam in the center of the hotel suite. She was out of breath - she hurt - her heart was pounding in her chest. God, it felt good. She'd take that over the emotional strain of recent events any day.

She tasted copper in her mouth, and knew he had split her lip with his vicious palm to the face. Veil ran her tongue along her lower lip, and felt the cut. He hadn't gone easy on her - and she was grateful for that. She'd heal quick enough, anyway. Veil welcomed the pain that came with a fistfight. Welcomed the pounding heartbeat in her throat - the shallow breaths. The catharsis was wonderful. She saw him - saw his own heart pounding beneath the vein on his neck.

His fingers were squeezing her shoulders - and she didn't want him to let go. He'd been the only thing keeping her grounded since they reappeared here in Brasov. Since the fight against Lyon and Death had gone so undoubtedly poorly. She'd have started walking for the horizon without him having pulled her back.

She knew she should be debating Alistair's request - but it was hard to focus with the man standing in front of her. Especially considering who the man was.

But where they found themselves now - as her dark eyes met his gold ones - she saw something there, in this heady moment, that both terrified and excited her. His eyes were beginning to turn crimson at the edges - leaking inwards. They were locked on her lower lip. The hands around her upper arms tightened slowly. Why? Oh… right. The blood at her mouth from the cut.

His lips suddenly crashed against hers in a violent kiss - and she let out a small 'nf!' in her throat as he did. He pulled back away from her at noise of surprise, but he did not withdraw more than a few inches. He waited her to speak - to complain, to fight. Veil had lost all her words.

Her heart seemed to stop beating as it hung in the balance - as they watched each other in that moment, both of them feeling on the edge of a precipice. The edge of a knife.

He leaned forward, slowly - inching his head closer to hers, and she froze. Her heart was lodged like a rock in her throat as she held her breath - and she thought even her heart had stopped beating.

Adrian moved his head even closer still, and she felt him kiss against her chin, felt him lick at the blood that had run down from her small wound, trailing his kisses up, following the thin red line to where it began. She didn't move - didn't fight or turn her head away, as he let his lips close against the cut on her lower lip, and she felt his tongue slowly, exploratively, run along along it, licking it clean of blood.

A noise - almost a whimper, escaped her parted lips, feeling his chill breath against her face. Her stomach had done a full cartwheel and robbed her of breath, of words, of everything.

He paused then and slowly, he pulled his head back away from her, his breath heavy from both their previous fight, and his current battle to maintain control of himself.

Dark eyes to molten gold, edged in crimson, as he waited for her to protest. Waited for her to fight, to tell him to stop, to kick at him. To even say that she was unsure, uncertain. He waited for her to give him _any_ sign that she didn't enjoy that just as much as he did.

There was no protest to give.

The air hung still for a moment as everything stopped.

Once more, Adrian's lips crashed against hers in a rough kiss - and she made a small noise in her throat once more. But this time, not one of shock.

His skin was cool against hers, as he tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss. Their eyes both slid shut in the heat of it. It felt more like they were still fighting than a kiss at all, and she welcomed it. It was bruising, violent - and the fiery, hungry and unyielding _need_ made up for the tepid nature of his skin.

He pushed away from her, as he suddenly seemed to realize what he had done. He took a step back - his chest heaving with breath as they watched each other - each unsure, each caught in the moment.

She watched and nearly moaned as he ran his tongue along his lower lip. He was tasting the blood - _her blood -_ that stained his lips pink. It gave him the false appearance of life if but for that brief moment.

His eyes were gold and crimson both, as he clearly fought against his hunger - or maybe hungers, plural. He looked guarded - nervous, almost. Their moment after Octavian's tortures taught her that much - that he was ashamed of this carnal, primal and starved side of him that reared its head, whenever he let emotions reign. That he was afraid of what he might do to her. Wary, and afraid to burn a bridge to the ground in what she knew he felt was an unworthy need.

Veil let a small breath flow through parted lips, still swollen from his kiss - as she made up her mind.

Let it burn.

Veil slipped two fingers into the front band of his pants. The black fabric was dangerously low cut to begin with - and her fingers now came achingly close to something _else_ entirely. She yanked him back to her, pulling him by that point alone.

Adrian could have easily resisted her - could have kept his footing, if he wanted to. But instead, he let himself be pulled forward - let her hand tangle in his platinum hair at the base of his neck. She pulled his head back down to hers, and kissed him - intent on warming his lukewarm lips with the embrace of her own.

His hands found her hips, and she felt him lift her up, her back sliding against the wooden beam, to ease the strain as he met her attentions with his own. She wrapped her legs around his waist, not wanting to let him go.

Adrian seemed to have no intent on leaving. His lips working hungrily against hers. He tilted his head to the side, his tongue flicking against her lips - asking for entrance. She granted it, and felt him delve into her mouth - tasting more of the heat that was there. He let out a shuddering noise as he pressed her harder against the beam - as if by that means alone he could absorb more of her warmth.

Both her arms were now around him - one still tangled in his hair, the other holding him close to her. He was so beautiful… so achingly perfect. So otherworldly in his appearance. The feeling of his strength against her made her want to melt - crumble into nothing and fall at his mercy. She pulled him flush against her body, and he closed the distance between them, pressing his chest against hers. Veil felt his hands slide up her body now that she supported her own weight with her legs about him - and he was grasping for her, fingers curling the fabric of her tank top in his hands.

Adrian pressed his hips against hers suddenly, an instinctual motion, one full of need, and she could feel his growing arousal against her as she tightened her legs against him in response to meet him. His muscles were taut, his lithe body tense as he pressed her against the beam even harder than before.

Their kiss broke as he did, and she let out a wavering gasp. Adrian was watching her, half-lidded eyes now mixed with gold and crimson, clouded with passion. He pressed against her once more, as if testing the waters - to see how she would react. A question. A statement of intent.

Another small noise, this time a faint moan, left her lips as she realized exactly what that did to her - and wished he wouldn't stop. His lips were parted, fangs still barely visible as he too, breathed heavily for air.

Once again, she saw in him the fear to continue. That if she kept pushing him, he wouldn't be able to stop himself. If she wanted to turn away, this was her last chance. She felt his breath, chill against her lips as he waited - a sharp contrast to his heated expression.

Even as she felt him pressed against her and felt the passion and want that burned in him - she knew he'd simply put her down, walk away, and forget any of this ever happened, if she asked him to.

Fuck that.

She wound her hand into his hair at the base of his neck, and pulled his head sharply backwards. Adrian hissed - both in pain and something else, his eyes still half-lidded in passion and hunger. Still, he watched her with a keen, razor-sharp interest.

Veil leaned her head forward, and let her lips graze along his jawline - and kissed the spot just below his ear, letting him feel her hot breath against his more lukewarm skin. She could feel him shudder underneath her, the muscles underneath her hand against his shoulders tensed and rippled at her caress.

She let her lips trail up to his ear, leaving behind a series of wet, hot kisses before she whispered to him, her own voice thick as it escaped her throat. "You can't break me."

The hands at her side dug harshly into her skin, and she feels a sudden movement as she finds herself half-thrown across the room. Staggering backwards, she felt a piece of furniture at the backs of her legs - but she was too startled to look. For a moment, she was sure she had offended Adrian - that she'd hear the door slam shut.

But she could barely gather her wits - hadn't even managed to raise her head before she felt him pressed against her once more. A hand yanked her blue hair painfully back in turn, and his lips were on hers again as he craned her head back to meet him.

His other hand went to her lower back, sliding underneath her shirt, fingers dragging along her skin. She could feel his nails against her - and she was sure he was leaving raised red marks in his wake. He broke the kiss for a moment, and pulls her tank top off over her head, and tosses it to the floor. It was in his way. She looks up at him, her chest heaving with her quickened breath.

Adrian seemed in a very similar state as his gaze wandered down her neck, joined by the fingers of one of his hands. It was her turn to shudder at his touch - as he let his fingers wander down the side of her neck and the tempo pulsing beneath the skin.

He lingered there for a moment before letting his fingers wander down to her shoulder, to the strap of her lace bra. He slid it down, maddeningly slow, until it draped, loose around her arm. His tilted his head down to her, and his lips took the place of his fingers, kissing her shoulder, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

Veil let her head fall back as his lips trail back up to her neck, and for a moment, she wonders if he's going to bite her again. It seems he wishes to, as his fangs barely prick her skin. She waits for the pain of it, but it doesn't come. Instead, he lets out a low growl. Both his hands are suddenly on her shoulders and with a single quick motion, he pushes her backwards.

Veil lets out a startled squeak as she falls over whatever piece of furniture was at the back of her legs - and her hands grasping at empty air as she tries to catch herself as she falls backwards. She falls - but onto a soft surface - and it takes her a split second to realize it was the bed that he had backed her up against.

She glared up at him, even through her desire.

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest at her moment of instinctual fear at falling - and his lips are smirking as they meet hers. He leans his agile frame down over her - one hand on either side of her, caging her in.

Platinum hair brushes against her face as she leans up to deepen the kiss, feeling him shift as he pulls her further up onto the hotel comforter. One of his knees settles between hers, and she feels his hand run down her side, trailing lower. Fingers splayed across her stomach, and she lets out a small noise as he does. He deftly undoes the button and then the zipper of her jeans, and before long, she is lying beneath him in only her underwear.

One of her hands slides along his cheek, letting her thumb trail his jawline. His tongue is against hers again as he kisses her once more - chilled, tasting of iron. It's an odd sensation, but a welcome one. Veil wants to warm him by sheer contact alone - and she lets her own tongue dip into his mouth, exploring him.

He is suddenly kneeling, one of her legs to either side of him, her thighs on his. His hands, now free from supporting his own weight, wander along her skin - surveying her, palms and fingers tracing down her legs, then up her sides in a way that makes her muscles tighten in response - makes her back arch into his hand as it grazes over the black lace of her bra.

He seemed in no hurry - lazily exploring her, golden eyes, still rimmed in crimson, attentively watching her every move as he let his chill fingertips run along her. Veil felt like she was a burning fire - her skin hot in contrast to his. She pulled in a deep breath, letting her lungs fill and slowly empty past parted lips as he seemed to try and memorize every inch of her - his fingers brushing along her body, pressing harder here and there, to see what she'd do.

Veil writhed under his scrutiny, as much as his hands. Sensing her unease, he smiled faintly again and leaned down once more, letting his lips languidly meet hers. She invited him closer, her fingers tangling into his unbleached, bloodstained muslin shirt.

When he broke the kiss, his face hovering barely an inch from hers, she muttered one word as she gripped at his shirt tighter. "Off."

Adrian sat back up, and obediently took the edge of his ruined shirt and lifted it off over his head, tossing it aside. His golden eyes were molten fire, now - watching her still with a keen interest as she let her hand run slowly up along his stomach. Christ… he was so _perfect._ The scars that decorated his pale skin did nothing to mar his beauty - in fact, if anything, it made him somehow more grounded in reality. Less like the painting or sculpture he resembled.

With a wicked grin that was the only clue she was up to trouble, she snatched his wrist and yanked, pulling him down towards her. His eyes went wide in surprise as she twisted, using the momentum to plant him on his back against the bed, with her now straddling his thighs.

Adrian tried to sit up - something reflexive in him wanting to fight back, but she put a hand flat against his chest and shoved him back down. She ticked a figure in front of his face as if to say 'no you don't.'

His eyes glinted in surprise and interest as he laid his head back against the bed. Eager to see what she was planning. This was unexpected to him, she could tell - foreign territory. Maybe his other lovers had never been so forward with him. Good. Their loss, her gain.

Veil leaned down over him, letting one hand run up his side. She began kissing at his collarbone - both gestures gentle, at least for the moment. Veil let her lips wander to just where his chest and shoulder met. She swirled her tongue along his sensitive skin for a brief moment before sinking her teeth down. Hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to break through the surface. It might not last for long - but she was intent on leaving a mark on his skin as proof that she'd been there. In time with her bite, she dug her nails into his side, low along the level of his dangerously cut pants, and raked them up along him.

Adrian hissed in a breath through clenched teeth and writhed. The exhale was a low growl - and she felt his hand tangle in her dark blue hair, winding it around his fingers. But he did not pull her head away from him. Instead, he seemed more than content to let her kiss at the reddening mark on his skin that she had left - content to let her lips wander to another tender part of his skin and repeat the process.

This time, she pulled the skin into her mouth with a hard pressure, and let the suction rub his skin against her teeth. This one would be purple when she was done, and she smiled at herself as he buckled underneath her, nearly thrashing in response. The pleasured, heavy, almost shocked and disgruntled noises that escaped his mouth were amazing - better than she'd have imagined, and she wanted to hear more from him. It almost sounded like they were still trading fists, instead of kisses.

When her mouth wandered to his neck - she could feel his heart pounding there - the tempo racing under her suddenly featherlight kisses. It was one of the only indications that she had that what she was doing was affecting him. Well, that, and what she could feel pressing against her abdomen, straining for freedom.

She chuckled low in her throat, and let her hand rake up his side again - nails digging into his skin, leaving raised welts. He growled again, louder this time, and it ended in something she could almost describe as a moan. When she bit down on the skin of his neck, sucking the tender flesh into her mouth to swirl her tongue around it as she released the grip of her teeth, he let out a low sigh of pleasure and bent his knees, sliding her body to straddle his hips.

Veil let out a small moan of her own, as she felt him press against her. His other hand was at her own hip, digging in, pushing her body down as he pressed his hips up. It was a primal movement, and it sent her mind reeling. It broke the clamp she had on his neck, and she was unable to do anything at all but gasp in air, feeling his hard body press against her own burning need.

The grip on her hair tightened, and she felt him pull her head back away from his neck. The grip was painful, but it wasn't a noise of suffering that left her lips as he tilted her head away from him. His lips met hers in an impatient hunger, a growl again forming in his throat as he pressed his hips once again up into her, this time lifting him, and her, from the sheets.

When he finally released the grip on her hair, she sat up, looking down at him - and she let out a wavering breath. God, the sight of him was enough to make her head spin. His lithe, muscular body - built like a jungle cat. Efficient. Dangerous. Hungry. Beautiful. Perfectly designed. Inhuman.

As he lifted his hips into her again, she let her own rock against his, sliding herself against him - and both of them let out small, surprised noises in response - both of them shocked at the other's need.

Her thoughts were cut off as his hand trailed down her side to grip her hips, opposite the other, and press himself up against her again, his half-lidded, molten eyes sliding shut in a small moan. She joined it with one of her own, feeling his hardness press against her. Patience, goddamnit, she swore at herself in her mind.

He would love her like a medieval prince, if that's what she wanted. He'd worship her, gently tend to her needs, kiss her tenderly. He would make no demands of her, if that's how she wanted it to go. When the hell would anybody want anything like that, from something like _him?_

No. Veil wanted to torment him - to make him lose himself - to push him past the breaking point. She wanted to know what it was like, when he lost control. God, the idea of a lust-mad Adrian made her stomach flip over in equal parts fear and excitement. She wanted to jab at the sleeping tiger until it ate her alive. She wanted to snap his control and let him wreak unholy hell on her.

She lifted one of his hands from her hip, as they fell into a slow, repeated pattern. He would lift his hips against her firmly, and she would rock hers against him in response, both of them feeling the arcing pleasure that came from it, washing up over them and threatening to consume them. This slow, gentle dance of lovers as they explored each other for the first time. He'd continue and finish this way happily, if that's what she wanted.

Veil had something very different in mind. She guided his hand upwards and encouraged him to trail it up her side, along the canyon between her breasts, higher up over her throat, and lifted it to her face. She let her tongue slide up his long index finger, rolling it around his fingertip, letting her eyes drift even closer to shut, barely peeking at his reaction. She kissed the side of it before taking it into her hot mouth. It was more than a little suggestive of what she wanted to do to him.

He moaned low in his throat, a deep and anguished sound. She felt him eagerly press his chilled finger into her, sliding it along her tongue as she rolled it around his digit. He was almost touching the back of her throat before withdrawing and pressing it in again. This time he went deeper, as if testing her once more. To see how far he could truly go with her.

She sucked on his finger slow and hard in strong pulls as he pressed back against her - once, twice, three times while she let out an appreciative sound of her own. The feeling lit a fire in her she hadn't known in ages - and god, it felt good. And god, it was with Adrian. The thought almost made her laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

His motions brought her back to the present as he slid his finger back into her throat. She guided the action - but he guided the speed. Each time he pressed his finger into her mouth, he pressed his hips up against her, as though he were trying to combine the two.

Adrian was watching her, rapt, stunned and drunk on her actions as he let her suck his finger back into his mouth. As she slid his finger out of her mouth, she left her lips parted, let him trail his finger along her lips, moistening them - promising to let them wrap around something more than _just_ his finger, if that's what he wanted.

Suddenly, he sat up halfway, and pressed two fingers into her mouth - demanding entrance. There was no telling him no - no stopping him from forcing them against her tongue and pushing deeper. Veil welcomed him in with a moan that was louder than she had expected. She tilted her head back with his invasion, arching her back and rocking her hips against him as she feels his tepid fingers slide back and forth against her. She sucked on him greedily, and is rewarded with another broken moan from beneath her.

Veil wanted this as badly as he did. Wanted to do this, just as much as he wanted it to be done. His voice hitched in his throat, as he let out a deep, almost violently impatient sound. His fingers dug tighter into her side, and she knew she'd have thin red crescents in her skin from his nails.

Her silent question of 'may I?' had been answered not with a 'yes please,' but an urgent ' _right now.'_ Veil was starting to break down his gentlemanly exterior - the great prince of the night - and meeting the beast that slept inside. She wanted more of it. No, she _needed_ more of this unleashed and raw side of him.

She pulled his fingers slowly from her lips, taking her sweet time - knowing it was sheer agony for him. He leaned back down against the bed. Veil guided his hand to her breast, and he gripped it - squeezing it none too gently through her bra. She gasped - letting out a small mewl as he kneaded her skin beneath his hand. She reached behind herself and undid the clasp of her bra - and he impatiently tore the impeding fabric from her as soon as it was free.

Both hands were now at her chest, running chill fingers along her skin, exploring and tormenting her. She let her eyes slide shut, let her head fall back as he worked. She cried out sharply as he pinched her nipple hard between two fingers - it was already a hard bud, and the sensitive flesh lit with pain.

Veil glared down at him, and the face only made him laugh - a low, deep sound in his throat. "You deserved that…"

His voice was velvet, deep - thick with passion and heat. She leaned down and kissed him - pressing her bare chest against his, feeling his hands run down her back, only to dig his nails in and claw at her skin the same as she had done to him. A high-pitched noise left her and fell against his lips at the sensation.

She kissed him - taking her sweet time, ignoring his attempts to deepen it. Each time he lifted his head to try and do so, she pulled her head away, just barely. Veil'd tease him until he exploded, if she had any say in the matter. She propped herself up on one elbow, and let her free hand wander down the center of his chest.

Breaking the kiss to watch him, she dug her nails into his skin, and raked them down - from his mid chest, down to where he disappeared into his pants. Veil wasn't gentle with it - he'd heal fast enough anyway. His golden eyes closed and he snarled, his fangs extended, arching into her, his back lifting off the bed.

She wanted to watch his face as she lowered herself down his body, letting her tongue trace the angry red line her fingernails had made. He was watching her in turn, eyes half-lidded with lust as she slid down him. The look on his face was over-eager, and starving - craving everything she did - and it drove her on.

Finally, she reached her destination. Her hands ran along his thighs, letting her thumbs trace the taut muscles and tendons of his inner legs as she trailed them upwards - touching everything _but_ his arousal, straining painfully against the fabric of his trousers. Veil let herself circle her tongue around on the skin just below his belly button, lapping at a red raised welt, before nipping gently at the sensitive flesh of his lower stomach.

She worked her hands against his thighs - teasing and massaging him, touching everything but the part that was begging for it. A growl of pleasure and impatience both left his throat, and her hair was tangled in his hand once more as it pooled like liquid sapphire against his pale skin.

"Woman, I swear to the gods in hell…" he threatened, his voice deep and thick.

Veil laughed quietly, and looked up at him in very badly faked innocence. "What?" she asked, even as she finally let her hand run up his hard length - starting at the base and slowly gliding upwards, applying pressure as she did.

He moaned in his throat, and let his head fall back against the bed, his hips raising up towards her hand to try and deepen the sensation. The hand in her hair fisted tightly as she touched him. She stroked her hand slowly back down as he lowered his hips, slowly repeating the pattern. Feeling him rut up against her in a desperate search for fulfillment.

Veil lowered her head down, and placed a kiss against him through the fabric, and laughed as he growled once more. "You're so impatient," she scolded him playfully even as she undid the belts of his pants, and working the buttons that lead from the band downwards, finally freed him from the confines of his clothing.

God… he was gorgeous. His pale, cool skin just made him seem more like a deity to her - belonging in some romantic tale of yore, not here before her, begging to be touched.

Veil took him in her hand, and his breath hitched - pausing entirely in anticipation. Slowly, knowing it was not nearly fast enough for him, she let her tongue run up his length, savoring it, from base to tip - letting her hot breath pour against his tepid skin. The gasp he had been holding in his lungs came out a raspy, incoherent sound.

She let her tongue continue, swirling it slowly around him when it reached the end, before descending once more. Her eyes slid shut in enjoyment of the moment. In enjoyment of him. Of listening to him hiss and try to mute himself as she tried to heat his cold flesh with her hot tongue. The moments ticked by as she lavished him with her attention, leaving no part of his length untouched.

Finally, she let herself moan against him as she took him into her mouth and he filled it - let her lips seal around him as she pushed him deeper in, depressing her tongue as he entered her. He was at her mercy, and she loved it. He was panting for air, barely audible noises coming from him as she focused on what was in front of her.

His hips bucked off of the bed as he let out a strangled noise in his throat, his hand in her hair fisting tighter. Adrian pushed her head lower - desperately. She obliged him, but on her terms - tilting her head to the side to better her angle. She let her head bob on him slowly, twisting her head as she did, letting her tongue slide around him lewdly - uncaring, knowing what kind of picture she was painting for him. If he cared, his moans did not tell her otherwise. But still, he pushed her down harder, wanting more of him to disappear between her lips.

Veil pulled in a breath through her nose and held it, as she pushed him further down into her mouth, and deep into her throat.

Adrian's strangled noise became a low keening sound, as she slowly pressed him further down into her hot throat. She let him push her head down against him, her nose against his abdomen, as he throbbed inside of her. She held him there for a long moment before she pulled back. She gasped for air when she could breathe once more, and let out a whimper of pleasure of her own. Her hands were splayed across his lower body - one went to cup his base as she pushed herself back down once she had caught enough breath to do so.

Adrian drew a sharp hiss of air in between his teeth and his hips bucked up against her again. Veil let out a startled noise as he pushed her forcefully down onto him - jamming her down until he was buried in her to the hilt. His one hand was no longer gripping her hair, but grasping the back of her head, forcing it down onto her with a desperate and animalistic want. He was starting to lose control. She balled up her fist and went to slam it into his thigh to remind him who was in charge - but his other hand grasped her wrist almost painfully.

He pulled her head back as he let his hips fall against the bed - and she had barely a moment to fill her aching lungs with air through her nose, before he pressed her back down, and his hips back up. As he buried himself in her once more, her mouth, her throat, filled with him - he pressed harder at the end, as if straining to go somehow deeper. The pattern repeated, once, twice, again and again, as he repeatedly slid down her hot throat. Each time, he let out a hitched, broken noise from deep in his chest.

Veil let him drive - let him eke out his pent up aggressions against her, felt him press into her until every inch was gone. Only then he'd withdraw until almost all of him had left her. The hand at his base stroked and encouraged him - even with the hasty and selfish nature of his motions. If she had the air to moan, she would have.

But it could only go for so long. Veil was running painfully low on air. Her head was swimming. She took her free hand and slapped his leg once - tapping out.

Adrian got the hint, and pulled her head from him entirely, and she lay there, gasping for air - her chest heaving in quick and unsteady breaths. Her eyes shut as her world reeled around her. Adrian half-dragged her up his body, and their positions were once again reversed. She was beneath him, as he hovered over her.

He was kissing her, hungrily, needily - his tongue delving into her mouth posessively. It was a beastial, primal thing above her. She loved it.

Adrian stopped briefly to look down at her, his eyes now fully crimson. "I think you may be a succubus, sent to torment me..." he whispered to her, his voice barely more than a rumble in his chest. He ran a thumb along her jaw, tracing her lower lip, now swollen from his hard kisses. "Do you know what you've done? Do you know what you've released?"

She looked up at his red eyes and smirked playfully. He was so pent up inside himself, even now. She moved her head to grasp his thumb in between her teeth, letting them scrape along his skin before answering him wickedly. "That was the point…" She felt his hand slide down her neck and to her chest, felt him knead her sensitive skin again, as she moaned low and arched up against him. She lifted her arms over her head, grasping at the pillows and the headboard, letting him explore her, free of her meddling.

His hand wandered lower, and she felt him pull away her underwear, finally leaving her fully naked underneath him. His hand cupped her, and she felt him begin to focus his aimless touching - dipping a finger into the heat that was almost growing painful at her core. Veil cried out, arching into him, her head rolling back in unashamed pleasure.

He let out a small groan in his throat, his head lowering to her ear, nipping at it, letting his tongue run slowly along it, as he ran his finger deeper into her, before retracting. "You are so warm..." he whispered against her ear. His finger was cool against her overwhelming heat, and although it was strange, it added to the sheer ecstasy of it all.

His head lowered to her breast, and she felt him roll his tongue around her nipple, sucking the hard bud into his mouth, biting down on it before soothing it with his lips. She whimpered and writhed, squirming against him as he took his time, mapping out her body beneath his ministrations.

It was his turn to torment her, it seemed. He kept his movements measured, slow, agonizingly pulling his hand away from her core, to explore her body again before returning. Each time he abandoned her and let his hand wander off, it made her mewl with pleasure and disappointment.

She lowered her hands finally into his platinum hair, and pulled him up to meet her. He kissed her jaw, let his tongue run along it slowly, making her arch her back into him. This time two fingers delved into her, and she choked off a cry in her throat. "Please…" she begged.

He knelt between her legs once more, and grabbing her thighs, pulled her closer to him. A hand at her lower back and another at her shoulder, and he tipped her up towards him - until she was sitting on his upper thighs, legs wrapped around him, arms around his neck and shoulders.

Adrian's lips met hers - breaking away from their desperate needs for just a moment and kissing her slowly. Firm, but gentle - as if it were the first time they'd kissed. Maybe that's more what he originally had in mind, she wondered.

But his teeth met her lower lip a second later, nipping at it, and she could feel his sharp fangs against her skin, threatening to break it. She moaned against him, and his hands ran to her hips, then scooped under her thighs, picking her up, pulling her flush against him - her bare chest touching his. She wound her arms around behind his neck.

They met eyes for a moment, as if each of them were asking the other if they were sure. That this would burn down the bridge. But it was a lie - the bridge had already been set ablaze. Each of them wanted this, each nervous that the other didn't.

Veil kissed him, deeply - as if to convince both of them that no, this was real. As he lowered her, she felt him press into her - and she broke the kiss to bury her head against the crook of his neck, and let out a cry, feeling her weight push him deeper into her as he stretched and filled her body.

He moaned, his low note meeting her higher one as he nuzzled his head into her hair. Soon he was buried in her body, pressing against her end, filling her to the brim. She felt his body tighten and melt in waves under her. As intense as their temperature difference must be for her - it must be doubly so for him.

Veil whimpered, and shifted, grinding her hips against him, wanting to feel more of him. He pulled in a sharp hiss through his teeth at her motion. Just as quickly, the moment of patience was gone. Now, only the hungry passion remained. He nearly threw her backwards - tipping her shoulders back to the bed, but keeping her hips raised and on his kneeling thighs. Only her shoulders touched the bed - and she had to put her arms out to support herself.

He didn't let off from where they were now joined. The angle pressed him into her in a way that threatened pain. Adrian's hands supported her hips, and kept her pinned against him like a vice. He pressed into her - harder, somehow going deeper - and she arched her back, crying out as the threat was made real.

Pain and pleasure both racked her body as he didn't move - didn't relent from the pressure as he dug himself deep into her core. She writhed, and her noises of agony and pleasure drew a deep laugh from him. "So beautiful… You might not be so glad for what you've done, when all is said and over," his voice was a deep purr, a heady growl that sounded little like him. The look on his face was a dark one - magnified by his crimson eyes.

Veil reached up to grab one of his arms with her hand - and wrapped her legs around his waist, cinching them to pull him even tighter into her - wincing in pain as she did. But it felt so goddamn good at the same time. She let out a sharp breath, and pulled in another in return. The feeling was equal parts agony and ecstasy. His look of hungry superiority was cracked as he gasped at the sensation. It was her turn to smirk up at him - seeing his bet and raising it. "Shut up, pretty boy."

One of his hands was then pinning her shoulders to the bed - the other gripping her hips, as he withdrew from her nearly all the way before slamming back in with all his force. A choked cry let her mouth as he did - and each time after that.

Adrian's control was slipping further and further towards nonexistent, as he pistoned in and out of her with a bruising force. Each time, a low, gutteral noise in him met her sharper, mewling cry. Veil finds herself holding on for dear life as he tips down over her to allow himself to move faster, although the force remains the same.

Her mind was dissolving into white noise - the only thing that existed was his painful and amazing presence. She kept her legs around his waist, lifting her hips to match each of his thrusts. It was nearly blinding her - so white-hot was the mixture of pain and pleasure. If it killed her, she'd die happy like this.

"Veil," he snarled out her name, and she felt his fangs brush her throat, over her jugular. It must have been a pounding drum if it matched the feeling of her heart in her throat.

He stopped, froze entirely. Veil let out a whimpering noise against him, and realized why he had gone still. Veil met his crimson gaze - both of them lost in the passion - but now his flickered with uncertainty. With guilt.

"Do it," she whispered to him, her hand tangling in his platinum hair.

"Veil-" he said her name again, and she wanted him never to stop saying it. But he was wavering, crimson eyes flickering between hers.

She turned her head away from him, only to pull his head back to her neck. "Adrian," she said his name in turn, a low whisper. "I want it."

That was enough to break what little control he had left. His fangs bit deep into her throat - and she cried out at the stinging pain. His thrusts resumed, although now they were not as measured as before - they were primal, harsh. And in time with her racing heart beat as her blood flowed into his mouth.

The feeling of him inside of her was almost too much for her to handle before it was joined by his teeth buried into her neck. A great, aching ecstasy from the bite crashed over her like a wave. Her legs still tight around him, she pulled him harder against her throat with her hand, her other arm grasping around his shoulders. Her nails dug into him - uncaring of whatever pain she brought him as she cried out.

Adrian moaned loudly against her skin as his bite was pressed deeper into her by her own doing - twin wounds widening as he dug in further.

It was visceral, brutal, euphoric - and threatened to wipe Veil's mind away for good as he overwhelmed her body in sensation. Her end rushed over like a crashing wave, as she arched and writhed underneath him, in a silent cry - so overwrought with it that she couldn't even form a noise. If she hadn't been pinned by him, she would have twisted from his grasp. It was almost impossible to tell if, or when, it faded. His attacks hadn't slowed, and kept her pouring over the cliff's edge, again and again.

Adrian's thrusts became suddenly harder and unforgiving - jerking her against the sheets as he was unable to keep himself at bay. His hand pressed her into the sheets, holding her still and obedient as he took his fill from her. With a deep, animalistic growl, he rammed into and held himself there. His teeth released her neck as he arched his back in his own broken cry, and she felt him spasm against her, as he too, finished.

The noise in his throat ebbed into a moan, and a heady gasping for air, as he caged her in, his arms on either side of her. He clutched her close to him, as if afraid she might vanish into nothingness. He shuddered, slumping down over her, lowering his head to her neck - and she let out a small moan in her throat as his tongue began to lap at the wound there - trailing the lines of blood that must have spilt.

Veil was shaking - trembling, every nerve on fire and trying to cool. Her hands were at his sides, and she slowly untangled her legs from him as he licked at her neck, swirling his tongue around the bites. She held him close, even still - not wanting to let him go. Her head was swimming - lightheaded for more than one reason as she laid there beneath him.

The noise in his throat now was that of an animal - a deep inhuman purr. His tongue tried to open one of the bite wounds further, digging into the hole as if trying to reach more of the liquid inside. He let out a low, pained whine, and she felt him turn his head away from her. His fingers in the sheets next to her balled into a fist.

He clearly wanted more, but was desperately fighting the urge.

"It's okay… Take it," she whispered to him. Even after all this, he was unwilling to impose more upon her. Even as she was naked beneath him, after everything they'd just done. "Adrian… If you want it, take it…"

She gasped as barely a breath happened before his teeth was in her throat again - reopening the same wound, digging deep into her flesh. He moaned in renewed ecstasy as her blood flowed into him once more.

Veil let her eyes slide shut, let herself enjoy the feeling of the pleasure and the closeness as it washed over her. She turned her head further away, to ease his strain, and he slid down her to lay against her, the hand at her upper arm squeezing and massaging it gently, as if coaxing her, trying to keep her calm.

But she trusted him - even if he killed her, it didn't matter. Not really, anyway. And god, it felt good. As she felt consciousness fade from her, the last thing she felt was his tongue against her skin, and his purr in her ear.

* * *

Adrian sighed deep in his throat. Truly, he was a miserable thing. Perhaps all the taunting his father and his minions had done at his behest over the years were not goading attempts to fuel his anger - but were, instead, rooted in fact.

He had brought them under the covers - and had carefully pulled them up around her. Lying there next to her, he was fraught with indecision. Leave his mighty and insurmountable recent impositions as they were, and let her rest on her own - which may insult her, when she awoke without him by her side. Or stay there with her, where he wished to be - which may insult her, when she awoke to find him by her side.

Was he forever to be torn in half? Even here, now? It seemed suitably ironic for him, that she seemed to accept his nature more than he himself did.

But, he had made his decision finally. That in one instance, where he left her to sleep without him - they might both awake miserable. If he stayed here beside her, at least he knew he would be content - even if she was not. Statistically, it was the safer option.

So he arranged the pillows beneath his shoulders and head, and let himself lay there, with her beside him, afraid to touch her. When she stirred - and rolled over, tucking her head onto his chest, draping an arm over him - he wondered if she knew what she had done. He had fed deeply from her - but had avoided killing her this time. His starvation was not nearly so keen as it had been, in Octavian's chambers.

She stayed there, sapphire hair pooling against his pale chest, sleeping. It was a peaceful slumber, free of dreams - and her warmth against his side, her slow breathing, and the steady thrum of her heart, lured him away as well.

He had dozed, now and again, for several hours. Until finally he found himself lying there, turning over the events of the day in his head once more, ruminating on what had happened. His fingers were lazily moving along the skin on her back in slow circles - winding and tracing around one of the black magic symbols that decorated her.

There were five in total - spaced vertically along her spine - the highest resting at the base of her neck, the last at her lower back. The last two he could not see at the moment, as he had pulled the sheets up over her. He was cold enough as it was, unable to much aid in keeping her warm if he were to leave her uncovered.

The decorations on her skin - as horrible as their purpose was, as dark of a history as they portended - were remarkable. Beautiful. Surprising. All traits that she in turn, shared. He found himself engrossed in them once more, delicately outlining them with his finger, tracing along the scattered lines and cryptic writing that he could not read.

"See, I told you I'd show them to you, if you asked nicely."

He blinked - astonished - not having heard her wake up. He must have utterly lost himself in thought. Her voice was quiet, playfully teasing him for what he was doing. She must have been able to tell, by the placement and movement on his fingers, what he had been once more engrossed in her markings.

"I… well," he stammered, uselessly.

Veil stretched, rolled onto her back, reaching her arms up over her head and leisurely arched herself against him - uncaring entirely of her nakedness. Adrian felt the urge to look away to protect her decency - and almost laughed at himself at the farcical thought.

"Good morning, or, evening - or whatever the fuck time it is," she said to him contentedly as she finished her stretch, looking up at him with a smile. "Can't tell, what with it being, y'know, permanently night out."

Adrian watched her, blankly - trying to catch up with what was happening. He found her reaction surprising - but to be fair, he was entirely unable to tell what it was that he had expected her to do instead.

Veil crooked an eyebrow in his direction, and she reached up to poke him in the nose. "Boop." He flinched, as if he had expected her to slap him - and she laughed hard. "Oh my god, Buttercup, relax."

"I… well," he repeated himself, feeling lost in the woods.

Veil rolled back over onto his chest, resting her arms on his chest to keep herself propped up, and looked at him, clearly amused. "Can we just skip the whole 'you think I have regrets, I think you have regrets' fight? We've been through that once already. Unless you feel like I took advantage of you last night," she said leadingly, teasing him. "If so, tell me - before I do it again."

Adrian let his hand touch her face, gently - for once trying to keep his thoughts out of the way. He let her fingers wander against her soft skin, feeling the warmth there underneath his fingertips. He let his fingers curl underneath her chin, and coax her forward. She came willingly, and he let his lips meet hers in a tender embrace.

He had wished to feel her lips against his for what now seemed like an eternity. Wondered what they might taste like, since their first sparring match - if he let himself admit he had such thoughts. But he had long since resigned himself to an empty existence, devoid of all such comforts. For now, in this quiet moment shared between him and the spitfire to which he had grown so enamoured, he allowed himself the surrender. When he parted from her, her heart was thumping faster in her chest.

That was a true kiss - one born of more than a fight and the beastial need that had completely and utterly ravished her - willingly or not. "I would like, if I may, to pretend as though that kiss came before the rest..."

Veil chuckled, and placed another kiss against his lips - shorter, sweeter than the first. When she pulled back, she was watching him with what he could only think of as admiration. "Sure. If anyone asks, I'll back up your story and say you were a total gentleman as you screwed me silly."

He almost rolled his eyes at her unflinchingly brazen observation in the flaw in what was meant to be a romantic phrase. Seeing his consternation, she laughed and kissed him again. This time, it was deeper - more drawn out, and it sent his hand to her lower back, feeling the hot skin there beneath his touch.

He felt the need, so long driven downwards into his person - so long denied, rise sharply once again.

For all the gods in heaven and hell, he would not have traded his night with her for anything. And to see her now - untouched by regret or shame, fully embracing the joy they had found in each other, made him ache for her again.

"You," she said quietly against his lips, even as she slung her leg over his to perch atop him. She pushed herself up on her arms halfway. He felt a great well of arousal flare like a signal fire within him - like she had dropped a torch into a great pit of lamp oil, as she so casually slid her body against him. "Are so… goddamn _perfect…_ do you know that?"

How he wanted to feel that inferno again - throw himself into that molten volcano, the smelting furnace of her soul. He'd throw himself into it for all eternity, if she let him. Adrian tangled a hand in that sapphire hair at the back of her neck, and pulled her back down to him.

His other hand ran slowly down her back, across her rump, and squeezed it hard - which caused her breath to hitch and tighten in her throat. Her breath, as she exhaled, was a shuddering breath against his cheek. "They're going to wonder what the hell happened to us," she said with a sigh, hating to break the moment, as she tried to pull away.

Adrian didn't care. Let the others rot. His other hand slid to the back of her neck, and drew her closer to him. Even as she tried to pull away, he did not allow it - instead letting his cool, moist breath hit her ear. "There may be little opportunity in the future…" he reminded her. She shuddered against him, and he felt her weaken against his advances. Her argument crumbled to dust against him.

To know such strength would bend under his touch - such defiant and unbreakable steel would turn so supple and pliable to him, only spurred him on. "Let them wonder…"

His fingers looped through her hair - once, twice, winding them around his fingers as he pulled her back from his lips - urging her to lean upwards as she straddled him. The sheets fell away from them as she did, and left her body for his perusal. His other hand roamed her body, grazing up her chest and indulging his desire to touch every part of her.

Adrian was not foreign to such physical acts. Being the son of Dracula - a prince, heir apparent to the throne of darkness - many women made advances on him. Succubi, vampires, and humans alike in his day. He was not a callous, empty creature - never used and tossed them aside like so many men of 'court' would be expected to do. But each kept no interest for him. Each was a game, so readily mastered and shallow. And in turn, each one found him too much, or too little, like the darkness that raged in half of his soul.

But her... Oh, this creature before him. Adrian bent his knees, letting her hips settle on him as they had the night prior. Felt the heat of her body press against his growing arousal, free of the fabric that had separated them before.

She moaned - wantonly, her head tilting back, exposing her long and beautiful neck that she had willingly offered him now not only out of necessity - but out of _pleasure_. One of his hands now wandered against her breast - manipulating her body between his fingers, feeling her stiffen and arch in pleasure against him.

What a wonder she was. To be played so much like an instrument, yet never conceding the battle. Surrendering to him so completely, and yet not at all - in the same breathless noise.

Her own hand was then at where their bodies met. Hot and sure of its movements, she began stroking his length slowly. Her careful, but not tentative touches lighting the fire in him anew, as if it had never blazed before.

He felt a moan leave his mouth - one of many he had issued recently. More than he had in centuries. Her thumb worked the vein on his member, ascending and descending against his length. Now he wondered who was manipulating whom. Which of them played the other so much like an orchestral harp? Was it indeed he, or now, was it she instead? Likely it was both - each one delighting in the other.

He cared not, feeling him twitch and throb in her hand, watching as her half-lidded, lustful gaze looked down at him with such a scalding fervor that it made him swallow thickly in the back of his throat.

She slid his body against him, rubbing her hips forward and back, and he hissed air through his teeth. He lifted his body up to meet and kiss her - desperate to taste her lips - but she pushed him back down.

Instead, she leaned down onto him - her motions never ceasing, rubbing her body along his. She kissed him and granted his wish, even as she shifted once more, her hand guiding him to her entrance.

She sat back up, and with that, slipped herself down onto him, filling herself with his body as they both arched, lost in pleasure. Lost in the euphoria brought by the other. Adrian's hand splayed against her stomach, wishing he could worship the creature that embraced him so willingly. Instead, he moaned low, pressed his hips up against her - lifting off the bed, raising her with it.

"This isn't how you pictured it happening, is it..?" she asked him, heated breath gasping down at him, even as he withdrew from her nearly to the end, before pressing back into her. Slower, this time - savoring every ounce of her. No, in his darkest moments, he could not have painted this picture above him - around him, melting him. He would have never dared dream a moment like this, not in a thousand years. But if there was one thing he had learned - it was that she was full of surprises.

"With you, nothing ever does…"


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks again to those who've reviewed! Here's our next installment. I hope you enjoy. If you're enjoying the story so far, pop me a review. I love to hear what people think. :)**

* * *

Veil stepped out of the shower, rubbing the towel through her hair. She had suggested that they share one, what with conservation of hot water and other resources being a necessity, in this post apocalyptic world, after all. Not that he needed much convincing. Adrian stood in front of the mirror, shirtless - his fingers tentatively touching a purple bruise at his collarbone.

Veil snickered loudly as she walked past him, wrapping the towel around herself. He gave her a quizzical look, asking the silent question of 'what's so funny?'

"I gave 'Alucard' a hickey," she said through another snicker and a grin. It was hysterically ludicrous, and she found herself shaking her head at the absurdity of their situation. His consternated sigh at her antics was more feigned than real - his faint smile was the giveaway.

She walked from the bathroom to get changed - collecting her clothes from the floor of the bedroom and donning them one at a time. She ran her hand back through her wet hair - and let out a wavering sigh. A horrible pain was beginning to form in her chest - not a physical pain, but an emotional one. Guilt was yanking on her - stabbing at her heart with a constant reminder of what was to come.

There was a part of her story she hadn't told Adrian - hell, one she hadn't even told Richard. And it was about to come back to haunt her.

The thought of bringing Alistair back from the dead… made her stomach churn. It made her want to run for the horizon and never look back. But the city of Brasov was burning. Other cities would join the same fate. How many people had died already, because of Dracula's hordes?

Alistair could stop this. How selfish was she, if she walked away? What would that make her, if she left all this to save herself? It would ruin whatever was starting to grow between her and Adrian, that was certain. Let alone what Richard would think. That was the choice then, now, wasn't it? Walk away alone - or stay… and lose them both anyway, when they found out the truth.

So really, she was going to walk away from here alone anyway. Or enslaved to Dracula. Or… or worse. It was a net zero or negative for her no matter what she did. Therefore, it was the hundreds of thousands of lives in the balance that swung her decision.

Veil walked from the bedroom and slumped into one of the few intact chairs at the table - as the rest were wooden splinters strewn all over the room from their fight - and busied herself with looking down at Richard's notes. A storm was now raging outside - the thunder booming in the distance. Maybe the rain would help squelch the fires that still glowed outside.

The storm was fitting to her sudden mood. What had she done? What was she _thinking?!_ Keeping things from Adrian was one thing - when they weren't somehow, oddly, and bizarrely 'involved.'

Involved. Right. Whatever that meant.

Veil found that she had come to adore the man - his strange, quiet dignity. His torn divide between his human and vampiric sides. Both so perfect and confident, yet unassuming and alone. He was so much like her - and yet, so very much not. She looked down at the markings on her forearms, and traced one of the circles. Adrian seemed to be so taken by the marks that reminded her how much of an abomination she really was. He seemed so curious about her - so interested in what and who she was.

Adrian walked from the bathroom - having wrung out whatever blood he could from his shirt. He was tucking it into his pants as he walked up to her silently. His hand gently fell on her shoulder. His thumb was on the back of her neck, and she felt him running it slowly along her skin. She shut her eyes, and lowered her head.

It was amazing - to have this kind of connection with someone. She didn't ever let it happen - never in her hundred years, for fear of losing the person she was attached to. Oh, sure, she had flings, but nothing that meant anything. It'd be a blink of an eye, and they'd be gone. But Adrian shared her plight in that, didn't he?

"What troubles you?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. He didn't need it to be.

"Not you, not this," she tried to reassure him. If she knew him - and she'd like to think that she _did,_ if even just a little - he was pondering if she regretted what had they had done. She reached for his hand, and lifted it gently from her shoulder and brought it to her lips, kissing the side of his hand gently, before weaving her fingers into his. "Whatever 'this' is."

His other hand stroked back her damp hair, and she felt him lean down to place a gentle kiss against her temple. "Should we both survive this, we can decide then…"

"Deal."

Adrian paused, and did not let her dodge. Damn it, he was learning. "You did not answer my question."

Veil lowered her head again. "I don't know what to do." His hand stroked her hair yet again, and she leaned back in the chair - letting her head rest against him. He did not speak - leaving it to her to do so. He knew she'd try to talk it out aloud if he let her. "I know the right answer is to bring Alistair back. I know we need him to stop Dracula - to stop his armies and save who-knows-how-many people. But I…" her voice cracked as fear gripped her heart like a vice.

His hand, still woven into hers, squeezed her tighter. The wordless promise was a warm blanket on a cold night. 'I will be here with you, come what may' he was saying silently. And it was a comfort she didn't deserve.

Veil shut her eyes, and let herself enjoy his presence. She owed him the whole story. She knew she should tell him. But she just couldn't bring herself to do it, and ruin what little time she had left to savor their new state of being. But, she'd tell him at least what she could about Alistair. "You should know who we're dealing with. Sit," she said, and motioned to the chair next to her. "This'll be a long one."

Adrian listened, and pulled the chair out from the table, and sat - letting his gaze flicker over the sketches and notes that littered the table (and now the floor, from their fight.) Veil took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly before starting.

"This is the story from the horse's mouth, so to speak. This is how he told it to me. So take that with a grain of salt." When Adrian nodded silently, she continued. "When half the heavenly host fell, it wasn't Lucifer that started the fight. It was an archangel known as Samael, twin brother to the Metatron, the voice of God. Samael is the quiet, brooding type, and hates being the center of attention. Sound familiar? You two would get along just great," she said with a small chuckle. "So Lucifer is more than happy to take all the credit. If Lucifer is the P.R. guy-" she caught herself and realized he had no idea what that meant. "The face of the operation, the public relations guy - then Asmodeus is the gears. The mastermind. He's a manipulator, a schemer - he works in the shadows, and watches his plans come together with seemingly no effort on his part."

"He's the archangel of lust," she continued her story. "Not just physical lust - but, for _everything._ He wants to be loved - that's his main driving force. He wants people to adore him. He doesn't enslave people - not overtly. He manipulates them into thinking it was always their choice."

Veil shifted in her chair, and let out a long sigh. "What Gustav said wasn't wrong. Alistair has never, not _once_ \- tried to hurt humanity. He loves humans. Loves watching them and their stories progress and unfold. He's been on this earth in some form or another since about a thousand years BC. He calls himself Alistair 'Solomon' for a reason. The last name is to credit the man who brought him here. King Solomon summoned him to earth, to get his help building a temple. He agreed - but under one condition. Once the temple was built, he would allow Asmodeus to remain - if under his watchful eye."

"This is where you get some conflicting accounts - but, from Alistair's version, Solomon was sick of it all, and wanted a vacation. So he left, leaving Alistair to impersonate him. Hence why Solomon was said to have so many wives and mistresses. That was Alistair. Once Solomon returned, 'he was trapped inside of a rock.' Really, honestly, Alistair just walked away. He wanted to explore. Wanted to see the world."

Veil let her fingers spin a piece of paper around in front of her, as she chewed on her lower lip. "He's not overtly evil. He isn't. He doesn't murder people - doesn't wage war on mankind. He doesn't want to see this world destroyed. He doesn't do shit like _that."_ Veil pointed out the window at the burning city. "What Gustav said wasn't a lie. I hate Alistair, Adrian… for what he's done to me. For what he's capable of doing. But that doesn't make it right to walk away."

"Then once we kill my father, we walk away from him. Or, if he proves to be a threat, we stop him." His hand went to hers, that was still restlessly fidgeting with a piece of paper. He closed it over hers, stopping her fidgeting.

"If you weren't here - I… I'd be gone by now. I couldn't do this." It was a startling admission on her part. That somehow, he gave her a kind of strength she wouldn't have had otherwise. His presence - and more importantly, the fact that somehow he seemed to care about her - gave her confidence that she wouldn't fall back into Alistair's trap. That whatever sick ploy the archangel was planning, it wouldn't work in front of Adrian. It might be total bunk, but stupidly it still felt that way.

She finally spared him a look - and his face was soft, as if her admission had been taken as some deep compliment. And perhaps it was. She didn't like to admit she ever needed the help of others. Adrian, for all his coldness, knew when he was in need of assistance.

His reply to her was a silent one. His finger crooked under her chin, and he leaned towards her, letting his lips meet hers in tender, gentle kiss.

* * *

Finally, Adrian had managed to coax his friend - his… lover - downstairs to meet with the others. His mind was still struggling to catch up to the word. Adrian had only just adapted to his mental acknowledgement of the word 'friend' before he was pitched into yet another change in definition. It is not that he was displeased. No, not by any means, did he regret or found himself resisting what was now growing between them. But it left him baffled and mystified.

He found himself wanting to keep her close. It was a foreign feeling to him, whatever this was that they shared. Adrian had once become infatuated with a changeling when he was younger - and the two of them had been nigh inseparable for several months. But they were both fundamentally children, and the feelings faded almost as quickly as they had come over them. This felt different from those days, although if pressed, he could not explain precisely how.

She lead their trek down the flights of stairs, and he watched her as she moved - as if by observation alone, he could unravel his confusion. Adrian had a deep desire to protect her. To shield her from the dangers they would now face. Now, he understood quite clearly that she could handle herself more than enough in any situation - and that was no small source of the affection he felt growing for her like a tree weaving its roots into the earth. And yet, the desire to defend her came to him all the same.

They reached the bottom floor, and walked through the first floor of the hotel. His focus on her shifted as they passed some strange… flat, black - piece of unknown equipment. Its large rectangular face was dancing with imagery - scenes and images that seemed impossible to him.

Adrian stopped to watch the object before him as it showed a window into a burning world. Scenes of the city burning - of another city he did not recognise. Writing scrolled by the bottom third of the screen in Romanian. He read it as it moved. 'Death count in the thousands. Many more thousands missing. Brasov a warzone. Bucharest next.' Adrian was not foolish enough to think this device was magic - the modern humans seemed to have little knowledge or command of such things. But technology, then?

"It's called a television," Veil said from beside him, sounding more than slightly amused. "I'll explain how it works later." Her hand curled around his elbow and pulled him away from the dancing views into another place.

A large group of people were standing in the lobby - some milling about, some sitting and talking with each other in hushed groups. Richard, Gabriel and Conrad sat at a table and chairs by one wall - the priests looking far less the worse for wear as they had, the last he had seen them.

Richard looked up, smiled faintly at Veil - and waved them over to join them. Veil let out a heavy sigh, but squared her shoulders as they headed across the room. Another small pack of people - cultists, by the lapel pins - stopped to watch as they crossed past them.

Adrian resisted the urge to pull out a chair for Veil. He tried not to laugh audibly at himself, at the sudden chivalrous thought. He never would have guessed that he was, at his core, some manner of a foolish romantic. He chose to stand, instead of sit, taking a position by the wall, and looking out at the rubble of the city beyond the windows that lined the front of the lobby.

He wondered what it would have been like, to woo the spitfire with the sapphire hair. From a traditional sense, their personal relationship had evolved entirely _backwards._ Adrian could imagine her sarcastic response to courtship - could see in his mind's eye, as clear as the light of day - the quirk of her lips as she levied a playful rebuffal. In all ways, he was a winter frost to her burning fire.

But Adrian admitted to himself that their new state of being would never have transpired by more conventional means. He never would have gone about doing such a thing. Adrian knew he would not have allowed himself to entertain the thought for longer than a passing fancy or moment of weakness.

He was far too committed to his empty life.

Trevor and Sypha, even Richter and Maria, had oft begged in their own right for him to seek some manner of purpose in this world. Some manner of meaning, past his desire to see his father's genocidal urges kept at bay. Pain stung his heart, a reminder of their passings - that they were long since rendered to dust as he was required to endure.

But Veil would not fade into time so easily. Indeed she seemed more durable than even his nature allowed. Would they have traded places, Adrian would not have emerged from Octavian's lair alive.

It was for that reason alone that he allowed himself to entertain the idea that perhaps after all this time, after all these years, he may have some company in the darkness.

"Adrian?"

Oh. Yes, right. There was a conversation ensuing. He broke from his reverie to turn his attention to the four individuals sitting around a small table. Veil had a cup of coffee in her hands, indicating he had been brooding in silence for some time.

It had been Gabriel that had spoken. Adrian turned to the priest. "What do you think?" the Italian priest asked.

"Of?" Adrian responded, feeling slightly guilty for having ignored their conversation to date.

"Alistair. We are in debate."

Adrian paused, and found himself wishing he had paid more attention to know the opinion of the priests. "The archangel is a threat, of that there is no doubt. He is not to be trusted. But, in light of our current ordeal… the needs of the moment outweigh the needs of the future."

Conrad nodded, as he went about cleaning one of his weapons, taking it apart piece by piece to wipe it down and reassemble it. "I second that. Gabe and I almost didn't make it outta there alive. Still dunno why that bastard priest didn't dismember us."

"He is not interested in needless death," Adrian provided. "Despite what you have seen. He wagered correctly that Veil and I could suffer through Octavian's… behaviors, and traded his assistance in the battle for your lives."

"Hrmf," the Irishman responded, and put down the chamber of his silver revolver onto the table with a thunk, as he continued the maintenance. It was more likely a distraction for the priest than a necessity. "I still plan on saying my thanks with a few holes through his head."

"Then it's settled," Gabriel said as he leaned back into his chair. "As rue as I am to admit it. We are three in favor, two - myself and Veil - against."

Richard had a book open in his lap, his fingers trailing along the text. "I think, once this is all said and done, we can stop him. Well, Veil - how did you kill him in the first place?"

Veil was spinning her coffee mug between her fingers where it sat on the table - rotating it about slowly. Her face was a careful mask of indifference - but he knew the pain that it belied. "I pulled him into the spirit realm, hook line and sinker, and I left him there. Gabriel and Richard both know first hand how much that sucks." The two men in question made nearly identical grimaces at the memory of what the spirit realm had to offer the living. "So it ripped his living human body apart like tissue paper."

"Do you think you could do it again?" Richard prompted.

"I don't think he'd fall for it. He wasn't expecting the attack the first time. Now… I be he has some way to fight it. He's not an idiot - he knows how to counteract my 'gifts.'" Veil responded, still not taking her eyes from her coffee mug.

"We have sent word back to the Vatican - to our people," Gabriel tried to reassure Veil. "We have spent centuries in pursuit of his kind. While we are… while we have never faced a creature of his magnitude - I have faith."

"Of course you do, that's what you _do_ isn't it? Have faith?" Veil shook her head, her lips twisting into a sad, self deprecating smile. "You four aren't at risk. He won't give a damn about any of you. That's why I'm going to do this. Because Dracula would kill you all at the first chance he gets. Alistair would invite you to brunch."

Richard put his hand on his friend's wrist, and she shut her eyes as he did. "I know what this means to you, Veil…" he said, scooching his chair closer to her. "I know how awful this is. I know you're terrified." Veil visibly bristled at that - but couldn't refute his claim.

"We will stand by you, Veil," Gabriel said quietly. That caught her attention - and she finally looked up at the two priests. "We have spoken and we apologize for how we reacted to the truth of your nature. You are making a valiant sacrifice for the good of all. We will honor that."

Veil smiled - but there was a sadness in her eyes that Adrian did not understand. A heartache that belied some deep sorrow that did not seem fitting to his words. It sparked in him a wariness - a warning that something may not be as it seems.

"Thank you," she said and then let out a resolute sigh. "Alright. Well. Fuck it. Let's get this over with." Veil rose up from the table, downed her coffee in one go, and walked up to the small group of cultists standing across from them. "Okay, asshats. Bring me to your leader."

* * *

To say that Veil was scared, did not do it justice. It wasn't a heart-pounding, adrenaline fueled fear like running from a T-Rex. It was an arctic cold. The idea of walking into a hospital for surgery and knowing you were going to die. And she meant die for _real -_ like a normal person, not her twisted broken existence.

She was willingly going under that knife - willingly giving her lungs, her kidneys, her heart and soul away to save someone else. It was that ice water running through her veins that made it so even _she_ had nothing sarcastic or quippy to say.

Adrian was beside her all the while, as they walked from the hotel to a nearby church. It was the 'Black Church.'. On the flight to Romania that Richard and her had taken before this whole shit-show began, she had read about it in the travel brochure. Named for the fires that scorched its walls black, it was the largest gothic cathedral in the country.

It was perfectly fitting for Alistair's cult to have taken up residence there.

A group of cultists, lead by Gustav, walked ahead of them - allowing them their privacy as they trekked across the burning city. Hanging back, just behind them, they kept to themselves. Several of Alistair's wooden puppets walked the perimeter, protecting them - ensuring they weren't caught in a trap or caught off guard.

"Who are they?" Gabriel asked her, watching the puppets uneasily, before correcting himself. "Or rather, who _were_ they?"

"Devoted followers. Ones willing to serve for eternity after death," Veil said matter-of-factly, trying to allow herself to become detached from her words. From her situation. "Ones willing to be bound to a wooden marionette for however long they were needed."

Gabriel made a face - disapproving of the barbarity of it - but at least consoled that the souls trapped inside the wooden puppets were devoted to their cause. Even if was a foolish decision, they were not suffering creatures.

The support of Adrian, Richard, and even now Gabriel and Conrad was touching. It would have warmed her heart, if she hadn't known it was about to be shattered. The moment they were trying to bolster her for - was the very moment that they would discover her lies and leave her there to rot. Especially Adrian.

Her self loathing grew at the knowledge that for the first time in maybe his entire life, Adrian was beginning to trust someone with his emotions. To let someone 'in' past the walls he had built. And she was going to destroy that in one fell swoop.

It was the self loathing that was the source of her strength to move forward. The knowledge that she deserved what was about to happen.

The city around them was in ruin. The scenes of gore were aging, but no less horrifying. Bodies were strewn about like dolls - blood smearing up the walls and across the pavement. Dracula's horde not only killed their prey, but seemed to take great joy in dismembering them.

Bodies were strung up on lamp posts - impaled on the metal like Vlad may have done back in his hayday. Soldiers and police - culists and priests of the Holy Order were numerous in the body count. But so were civilian men, women, and children. The horde had no care for who they laid waste. They had one instruction - kill them all.

Her one source of enjoyment was Richard - who had finally worked up the nerve to talk to Adrian. And it was resulting in one of the most one-sided and ridiculous conversations she had heard in a long time.

"So you're… _really_ Alucard."

"Yes."

"You fought with Trevor Belmont and Sypha Belnades."

"Yes."

" _And_ Richter Belmont and Maria Renard."

"... Yes."

Richard let out a weird noise, and opened his notebook, scribbling frantically into it. "You fought Dracula in both 1476 _and_ 1797."

"Do you have a question, human?"

Richard stammered and made some unintelligible noise before finally swallowing it down. He was silent for a long minute, before finally speaking. "What was it like?"

The strained and irritated look on Adrian's face almost made her laugh. If she had been in a better mood, she really would have. The half-vampire finally managed to find a way to answer the question in a single word. "... Burdensome."

Veil couldn't help but smile, and turned her head away to hide it. Gabriel's expression was thin, and not focusing on the conversation. But Conrad was grinning like an idiot. "You've got yerself a notebook an' a pen there, friend - why not score an autograph while yer at it?"

Richard stammered again at being blatantly called out, and shoved his notebook and pen into pockets. "N-no, nevermind..."

Conrad let out a loud guffaw of laughter, and slapped Richard on the back - sending him reeling forwards. The history professor wasn't use to such rough gestures.

Veil wished they were sitting around at a bar sharing drinks - not walking to her doom. Looking up, she felt her steps falter as she realized… they were there. The church stood in front of them, the gothic spires looming over the group as they approached. Saints in their poses lined the building's architectural details. It was clear that several of the blocks of its stone face had been replaced over the year - lighter colored, crisp, against the aged and cracked original masonry.

It was a perfectly foreboding appearance against the red and hazy sky overhead. The corruption of the castle had spread with the advance of Dracula's armies, and brought with it the eternal darkness and bloodstained sky.

A hand rested on her lower back, and she almost jumped at the contact - her head whirling to see who it was. But, she should have known. Adrian was looking down at her gently - his golden eyes firm, but sympathetic.

Veil nodded to him silently. She knew she had to do this - regardless of her fear. Regardless of what she felt clenching around her heart.

His hand left her back, and allowed her to walk from him - standing behind her as she ascended the steps to the door of the church. Gustav was knocking on the door - and shouting something in german to whomever was inside. The doors creaked and swung open, pushed by more people she didn't recognize.

But all these people she didn't know, had one thing in common. They all served _him._ Alistair. Asmodeus, the fallen archangel. Her creator. Veil wanted to curl into a ball - wanted to turn and run away - close her eyes and wait until morning, anything to chase away this living nightmare.

But she had a duty to perform. Alistair would help defeat Dracula - she was certain of that. He'd stop the hordes from destroying the countryside and spreading further and further out - taking countless lives with it.

Veil shoved her hands into her pockets, and wished she could become invisible. The people who had pushed open the doors looked as though they had been through the trenches of World War One - and, honestly, they had gone through something of equal horror, fighting the hordes of monsters. They were haggard, dirty, torn and tired. But as they looked at her, their eyes lit up in hope, joy and adoration. They bowed low to her, mutterings thanks and praises in a dozen different languages.

Veil tried not to cringe in disgust as they did - and just pushed past them. Adrian still stood at her back, and she was glad she couldn't see his face as she was so warmly received by the cult she wished she could wipe off the face of the planet.

The interior of the church was designed in a baroque style - clashing with the gothic exterior. Probably due to the fire that nearly destroyed the place, she thought, even through her dread. She was having lousy luck in churches recently. Three for three in the past two weeks, they've just wound up being the stage for just a grab-bag of awful. Well, at least this time the priest Lyon wasn't here. Although she'd trade him for the cultists, anyday.

It was through the vestibule, and into the church sanctuary that her steps finally locked up entirely, freezing her to the spot. It was not due to the beauty of the interior. Or the people that lined the walls to either side of the main walkway to the altar, standing like soldiers with their back against the stone and windows.

There, in the center of the aisle - was a figure, head lowered, garbed in a thick, velvety black cloak, its fabric drawn low over its face to hide it from view.

It was flanked by two men wearing white suits, in stark contrast to the black cloaked figure beside them. The two men's eyes were white from lid to lid - missing entirely any sort of iris or pupil. Even still, she knew they were watching her. Sightless eyes perhaps, but she knew they could see her all the same. Because it was not from their eyes that their vision came from.

The two men stepped towards them - each in unison. The men could have been twins - and perhaps they were. Each had close-cropped blonde hair. Each had identical expressions. She knew why. They were of one mind, and it was _neither_ of theirs that was driving them. It was the mind of the figure in the center who was controlling them.

She didn't need to ask who it was in the black cloak. She didn't need to know whose figure that was - even if this exact form was unknown to her.

Veil backed up, and backed straight into Adrian's chest. She couldn't help but let out a small whimper in her throat, her eyes wide. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze - trying to reassure her.

It didn't help much. But it was a worthy attempt.

The figure in the black cloak stood up taller - and a wooden hand left its confines. The figure was one of the marionettes in Alistair's command. The hand was black ashwood burl - rare and pale in color. It reached out for her - revealing that its forearm had no markings like all the others. There was no soul bound to this wooden figurine - none was needed. There was some other force steering it. Some other immense power controlling the lifeless form. Its movements were no less broken and jerky than its compatriots, however.

"Our Master bids you and your friends a deep and kind welcome, Lady Selina. Our Master is… overjoyed by your presence," the two men to either side of the wooden puppet said in unison. Alistair had no voice of his own - he couldn't speak without a body, after all. So he had those men, whose minds were empty except for his voice - his will.

"I'm only doing this to stop Dracula," she responded. She had intended to sound firm - angry. Instead she sounded afraid and small. Far more truthful, but embarrassing to say the least.

The figure lowered its wooden hand, and its head bowed once more into the black fabric. It had no face to see, anyway. But the movement was one of pain, one of disappointment. Like a kicked dog. Veil grit her teeth, knowing it was all for show.

"Our Master understands. Still, it has been so long since he has seen you. It makes his heart warm to hear your voice." The two twins stood aside as the marionette in the black cloak stepped forwards towards them. Its gait was faltering, jumpy like all the rest. Like a movie shot with missing frames. It was eerie, unnerving, and made her throat go dry.

Veil wanted to run. Wanted to make a break for the door - to take off for the hills and never come back. Not just because of the uncanny figurine in front of her in the physical realm - but because of what she could see in the _spirit_ realm.

It was Asmodeus - in all his glory. He stood behind the figures in the aisle upon the top stair of the altar. Large, deep grey wings that were almost black, were spread and grazing against the columns of the sanctuary of the ancient structure.

The feathers of his wings were oil-slicked and opalescent in blues and greens like a crow or grackle. The bottom half of his face was obscured by a crimson scarf, but did little to hide the sharp features that were perfect to the point of impossible. He was, after all, an archangel. But there was a sharp edge to his appearance, painting him as both alluring and deeply dangerous.

Long black hair fell down to his muscular, broad chest, which remained bare. A sash was wrapped around his waist, falling to his ankles. The fabric itself was nondescript - blackened and worn from travels through time immemorial. No markings, or script, or gold thread lined its edges. His eyes were equal parts blue and green - and they shone with an otherworldly source.

His wings were tipped with claws that could have served for a second set of hands. Long, beastlike talons that clenched into fists before relaxing slowly at the sight of her. It was the only movement he made.

The creature stood in front of the altar of the church, unmoving - glowing eyes watching her - as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered. The figure was all at once the most beautiful thing she had ever seen - and the most horrifying. It was not the first time she had seen him this way. She had seen it the day she had dragged him into the spirit plane and abandoned him there to have his physical body torn to pieces.

Veil hadn't thought through her actions when she had done it. It was a reflexive moment of pain and vengeance. She hadn't realized that by dragging Asmodeus into this spirit plane… she had trapped him there. Left him hovering in this empty half-world, unable to escape or free himself. She left him unable to summon himself a body, for every time he'd tried, the spirit world would have ripped it to pieces before the task was complete. It was a level of torment she hadn't intended on paying him - but she didn't regret her actions that day. Not in the slightest.

Veil tried to shrink back further into Adrian - who was holding his ground.

"Please, no," she whispered and felt her heart lodge hard into her throat. She couldn't do this. She just couldn't.

" _Come to me,"_ Asmodeus spoke to her in the spirit world. His voice was velvet and a knife both at once. Sharp, sinister - beautiful and beguiling. A tool of seduction if nothing else. " _Please… let me see you. Let me hold you, if but for one last time."_

The two twins in the physical world echoed his statements. "Our master wishes to embrace you for one last time."

Veil turned, meaning to go for the door. This was all too much. Just all too much for her to handle. Adrian stepped to block her - and put one of his palms against her jaw, stroking her cheek with his thumb. It was a tender embrace of two people who were more than friends. A part of her mind told her she'd have some explaining to do, to Richard and the priests. But she was about to have even more explaining to do, anyway.

"Be strong," Adrian whispered to her. His words were meant for her, nobody else. "You can endure this… I will be here."

"No, you won't," Veil responded through a half broken sound that could have doubled for a sob. "Not after all this is done."

His concern was altered by confusion. "What do you mean?"

Veil shook her head, and let herself take a step back from him, away from his touch - and towards Asmodeus. She knew anguish was written on her face, and she chewed on her lower lip, which she had painted her favorite shade of blue for the occasion. "After this, I doubt you'll even speak to me."

"Why..?" Adrian responded, wary.

Her voice was quiet, broken. Defeated. "You'll see." Veil turned her back to him, and looked past the life-size wooden figurine that Alistair had been using as a physical representation of himself - and to the figure of the archangel standing before the altar. "Alright," she said to the creature. He held his arms out in front of him, calling out for her.

She was trembling - 'afraid' didn't do justice to what she felt. Anguish, terror, self-loathing, hatred for the thing in front of her, all ripped through her at break-neck speed. But still, she found the strength to begin walking down the center aisle.

Veil knew what she had to do. But it didn't make it any easier. She stepped out from the physical world and phased herself into the spirit one. As she did, the wooden marionette crumpled to the floor - no longer useful or interesting. The two twins, whose minds had been empty of anything but Asmodeus' own, collapsed, as equally forgotten and unimportant as the puppet now was.

Asmodeus was focused entirely now on something else - her. She walked up the aisle in this faded, washed out version of the physical world. She walked through the crumpled and forgotten bodies of who had been the face and voice of the fallen archangel for the past seventy years.

She walked up to him, and stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at him. The cold that was freezing her body was nothing compared to the cold that was gripping her heart. "Don't hurt them," she said, her voice sounding small once more.

" _Why would I do such a thing..?"_ Asmodeus responded gently, stepping from the top stair down towards her. His wings relaxed - no longer spread to touch the width of the church, but now draped behind him. His feet were bare - and the bottoms of them were black with soot.

He was tall - easily seven feet, in this form. It loomed over her as he slowly approached. His movements were careful, steady - but powerful. A lion on the hunt - and the comparison in her mind didn't help her mood.

As he reached the carpet that ran the center aisle, she took a step back, away from him. That gave him pause, and he sighed, his brow creased in sorrow. " _Selina… I will not harm them. I will not harm you… You know I could not do such a thing."_

"That's not what I'm afraid of," she said - her words in the spirit world felt weak, echoing through the emptiness. The cold of this plane of existence was leaching into her body now - trying to rob the life from her.

" _Then why do you fear me so..?"_ He sounded so… dejected. Crestfallen, even. Like he really didn't understand why she rejected him. His arms reached out to her once more - and she cringed, turning her head away from him. But she kept her ground, as he stepped gently towards her. " _May we discuss this another time? I fear what this world will do to you, if you linger here."_

"I've been here _plenty_ since I walked away from you," Veil glared at him - her anger coming back now to defend her. "And I'll do it plenty more when I walk away a second time."

The sigh from him was morose and wounded. He hung his head for a moment, his shining and glowing eyes shutting briefly. " _You may do what you wish."_

Veil didn't believe him. She'd never trust anything that came out of his mouth. But as he extended his hands to her once more and stepped towards her, she held her ground. The power of him was making her skin buzz as he approached. This was an archangel. A demigod. A creature older than time. She felt so… small, so unimportant as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him.

Even here, in this world, his skin was warm - even without a body to attribute it to. Veil shut her eyes, and felt tears sting them and run down her cheeks - and the water froze on her skin in the sub-arctic cold. The ice burned her in another way.

He wrapped his wings about her - and she felt the clawed talon of one of his wings curl into her hair at the back of her neck. He pressed her head against his chest, as he cradled her close to him. The claws were holding her in a gentle gesture not fitting for such vicious tools.

It was time. She wrapped her arms around him in turn, and as she stepped into the physical world - she brought him with her.

* * *

Adrian watched as a figure appeared - two figures, rather - at the base of the stairs to the altar. He had watched as cultists worked quickly to remove the bodies of the two twins and the puppet - both seemingly abandoned now that they served no need.

The figure that appeared… was unlike anything he had ever seen. It held Veil in its arms, holding her in an embrace - blackened, shining wings folded around them both. It was translucent - transparent like a ghost. It was raw power, but no physical form to contain it.

As he straightened up, his wings unfurled behind him, spreading out and showing the full extent of their glory and power. The man - his face half obscured by crimson fabric that wrapped about him and trailed down his chest - was the most unnatural kind of beauty he had ever seen.

It was human in features - but not, all at once. Blue and green eyes were cast down at the figure in its arms. Veil stepped away from him - and he allowed her to take one movement away from him, before he let a hand settle on her shoulder. "Forgive me," Adrian heard the archangel say.

Veil let out a cry of pain and struggled suddenly, her hands going to his wrist in an attempt to pull his hand away from her. But it was locked tight.

Adrian found himself caught in the moment, unable to react fast enough. He watched as all color drained from her - as if her life was being robbed from her. Sure enough, that seemed to have been the archangel's goal.

His form began to change - using her lifeforce to build himself a new body. The creature shimmered and morphed. When Veil's knees gave out, and she began to collapse, it was new, and physical arms that wrapped around her to catch her.

Asmodeus now wore human skin. He was standing at a height about a head above Adrian's own - wearing a carefully tailored suit that was entirely black, save for a blue and green tie. Hair, no longer jet black that reached to his waist, was cut to chin length instead.

The body he had made muted some of his otherworldly appearance - but not enough to cancel it entirely.

Adrian had often heard humans speak of the presence of a vampire being unsettling - that even though they may look human, there was something about them that left the hair on the back of the neck standing. He had never understood it, unable to find such sensation in something to which he was kin. But now, looking at the figure that had fallen to one knee to cradle Veil in his arms, he finally understood the sentiment.

Alistair had lifted a hand to gently stroke back her hair from her lifeless face. He had killed her - but knew without doubt that she would return. Even still, sadness and regret were etched onto him plainly.

It was then, that Adrian found his legs once more. He placed the tip of his silver sword against the man's throat. Alistair paused in his tentative, loving gesture towards the young woman, and only barely lifted his head to turn it away from the blade.

Eyes that shone in greens and blues met his golden ones. Adrian understood how the humans could fall to worship such a thing as what knelt before him - the power that lived behind those eyes was enticing. "I assume you wish to speak with me?" he said, Alistar's deep voice coy and beguiling.

"Leave her be," was his simple demand.

Alistair sighed, and shut his eyes for a moment, as if dealing with a child. "Very well. May I, kindly, place her upon something slightly more dignified than the floor?"

Adrian shifted his blade to allow the man to stand, lifting her in his arms like her weight was nothing to him. He walked to the first row of pews, and gently placed her down upon it - reverently. He folded her arms against her, and stood.

"You are Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes, are you not?" Alistair asked - in what was trying to be a casual manner. He removed his coat, and balled it up - tucking it under her head. He was wearing a black shirt and black vest - the vest just slightly textured to give it any contrast. Despite the archangel's attempt to sound casual, his voice still rang through the room like the sound of sword on shield - the unnatural quality of it removing any hope of being taken in such a banal way as the tone implied.

"I am," was Adrian's simple reply - sword drawn and pointed squarely at the man who now stood a few feet from him.

"They have spoken of you," he gestured idly at the people who lined the walls - who were now on their knees in subservience. Alistair paid them little mind as he turned back to face him, and bowed at the waist. "Well met, son of Dracula. I doubt I need introduction." The archangel was approaching him now, and stood at the other side of his sword. "I would shake your hand, but…" blue and green eyes glanced down at the blade in Adrian's hand. "It seems she has spoken to you of me already."

Adrian didn't respond, just glared at the archangel. Adrian had little hope of defeating the man in single combat - he wasn't a fool. But yet, he would try, if it came to that.

Alistair chuckled, a deep and dark sound. "Do you think I mean her harm?" He was amused at the insinuation, as if Adrian had instead insisted that the moon were made of cheese. "Whatever gave you such a notion?"

"She does not trust you. And so, neither shall I."

"I see," he said with a breath. Alistair turned to look down at Veil's still lifeless body. Although no damage had been brought to her, it was taking her some time to return. "I regret doing even this much - taking her life in need. Although… I suspect you would understand such things, would you not?"

Adrian felt anger well in him at the archangel's insinuation. But he had spoken truth. The archangel looked at him, and smiled - this time, a cruel expression. The archangel continued, turning back towards him as he did. "I can sense her in your veins, 'Alucard.' I can smell her on your skin…" his face darkened - and he suddenly looked the part of a fallen archangel, a twisted kind of shadowy and cruel anger glinting in his inhuman eyes. His voice was a knife in the inky blackness. "I warn you, half-breed… I am a jealous creature by nature."

This was not the jealousy of a parent, spurned by their child for another way of life. He knew that look of disdain well, as he had seen it so often painted upon Vlad's features. But he could not find the source for the archangel's words. Instead, Adrian lifted his sword at the threat, and found his own anger and confusion giving rise to his response. "You ill spend your jealousy, demon. When Dracula has fallen, your _daughter_ will take her leave of you - and you will do nothing to stop her."

Alistair laughed then - the mirth breaking his darkened expression like it had never been there. But it was not a jovial laugh, not truly - there was an edge of sadness to it, an edge of regret. An edge of… pity. "Oh, my poor boy… My poor, _dear_ friend. She did not tell you, did she? I am not surprised… such shame she carries for our time together. You musn't hate her too keenly for her deception."

"What do you mean..?"

Alistair walked towards him, uncaring of the sword tip that now rested against the center of his vest. The archangel smiled at him fondly - but like one would smile at a lame, if beloved horse. The words that came next from his mouth, nearly made Adrian's sword fall from his grasp.

"She is not my daughter, dhampir… She is my _wife._ "


	13. Chapter 13

**Here you go, everyone! Chapters'll be coming probably about once a week, now that the holidays are over and I have to go back to work. Pfft. Stupid day job. I *might* manage to get another one out tonight, but it depends on how quickly it all flows.**

 **As always, if you enjoy or have some thoughts, let me know! :)**

* * *

" _I wish you could've seen his face. It's the most emotion I've seen out of that half-breed in… well, ever."_

Azrael spoke to her as she lingered in that netherrealm between life and death. "Shut up, _dad,"_ she responded into the darkness. Her sarcasm brought a pleased laughter out of the nothingness before the gate. The levity faded as she felt the deep cold seep into her. And with it, came the dread, sadness and regret. "Let me die this time, please… don't send me back there to face that."

" _Sorry, kiddo... No can do."_

Veil awoke with a hard gasp - feeling her lungs fill with air. God, she was so _cold._ She really wished she'd stop dying so much recently. As she exhaled, she watched her frozen breath turn to mist in the warmer air. The ceiling of the church greeted her - its arched points reaching high overhead. She shivered uncontrollably as her body desperately tried to turn the engine over and warm her back up.

Power had been lost to this part of the city - but the old building had no small supply of candles. The flickering light cast dancing shadows against the walls and ceiling. It made it feel somehow transported back in time. She was lying on a pew, judging by the hard surface underneath her. But at least something soft was under her head.

Something was placed over her, and she realized it was somebody's jacket. She sat up, forcing her eyes to focus on whoever was near her - and she reached for a weapon she didn't have. So instead, her hand twisted into the shirt collar of a cultist - her other hand drawn back in a fist, ready to shatter the man's nose. He shrieked and staggered backwards, breaking out of her grasp and stumbled over his own steps and toppling himself to the ground. But at least he was out of her reach, which had been his goal.

"Easy now, love," a sharp, deep voice said through a chuckle. A knife wrapped in velvet. "He meant no harm by it."

It was Alistair.

She turned towards the voice, and found him in the pew a row behind her - sitting sideways, his feet up on the polished wood surface, crossed at the ankles. He was dressed in an expensive, high-end suit. His shoes were black - as were his clothes. And as always, it was all tailored perfectly for him.

Veil knew this form much better than his 'true' one. Not the creature that transcended beauty in its tragedy and horror - the haggard and scorched archangel. No, this was the man. Or at least, the man he wished he could become. Everything about him was handsome and chiseled perfection, like a statue of a god - shaped just how he wanted it. It reflected the power that fueled him. Even now, she could see his 'true' form in the spirit realm, flashing in and out like some strange after image. She had never seen him like that before he murdered her - and split her halfway between life and death.

Even in his 'mortal' form, he was too 'much' to be human - everything about him was too alluring. His green and blue eyes shone too brightly. Too seductive. Too powerful. Too graceful and far, far too fascinating in this movements. He was a fire in a cabin during a blizzard. To embrace him was to be safe, now and forever. It was easy to understand why people fell to their knees in front of him, and worshiped him. She had be one of them once, after all.

Somehow, now having seen both his forms - she found she preferred him as the fallen archangel. Burnt, ragged - but somehow more beautiful in its darkness. No, its honesty. Veil let out a wavering breath and stood up, shaking out of the spell he cast just by simply _being there._ She doubt he even did it on purpose. It was probably just the side effect of being who and what he was.

Alistair was sitting with an open book in his hands, his eyes glancing up from the text to look at her with a small smile. Agatha Christie's ' _The Moving Finger.'_

She had forgotten about the archangel's inexplicable love of Agatha Christie novels. Anything that had made him more human - more personable, she had pushed from her mind. He had made sure to read each one as it was released - and oftentimes rereading them half a dozen times each while waiting for the next to come out.

Alistair noticed her glance to the book title. "It was nice of them to keep this for me. It even had my bookmark where I had last placed it," he said casually as he went back to the text. "As I didn't have a chance to finish it at the time."

"I'm sorry killing you put such a cramp in your style," Veil said bitterly and stood up - realizing the thing under her head had been Alistair's suitcoat, balled up for her.

"You really have become more violent over the years, haven't you… You always had such a fire. But this is something else entirely, isn't it? This anger?" Alistair didn't look up from the text as he spoke. He could multitask through a conversation and reading at the same time without even trying. From her experience, he could run three of four separate lines of thought at once without any confusion. Attribute it to being an archangel, she supposed. "But you are still finding your own immortal way through this mortal world. You are only just beginning your journey into eternity. It will be wonderful to see what you become."

Veil glared at him. "I am what you _made me._ I've become what I've needed to be. Your people hunted me for decades - trying to get me to bring you back - you or worse! The dead, demons, angels - or horrible, tentacled, wriggly things that have names I can't even pronounce. And y'know what? _They_ didn't ask so nicely. I've had to learn to _become_ 'violent.' In short, you don't know me anymore - so fuck off," she swore at him angrily.

"Ah, yes, the language. That remains the same, I see." Alistair said with another laugh. He seemed utterly unphased by her anger. He ignored it like it had never happened. This time, he put the bookmark in between the pages and shut it, looking back up with her. He didn't meet her anger with his own - instead, he was somehow mildly amused, and… happy. Joy shone in his eyes when he looked at her. "It is so good to see you again, Selina."

"That _isn't_ my name anymore," Veil said through clenched teeth.

That seemed to hurt him, and he sighed heavily, looking away down the aisle to the front of the church. "So I've been told. So loathsome you find your past - so loathsome you find _me_ \- that you changed your name to 'Veil.'" His gaze focused back onto her. "You will have to forgive me if I cannot call you such."

"I'm not going to forgive you for anything, Alistair," she seethed.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Time is long, and I am patient," he said with a passive shrug. "Truly, please, calm yourself. I have no wish to argue with you."

Veil laughed. "Then don't. The only thing I brought you back for, was to fight Dracula. That's it. Once he's been beaten, I walk away."

"I have no doubt you will. You have an unwavering sense of purpose, of which I pray keep hold of over the long years ahead. Nothing is more tragic in this world than immortality without purpose. Ask your young beau's father, if you have the chance. Ah - speaking of your beau. I wonder, when you do walk away from me - it seems you may now walk away alone." Alistair shrugged idly. His demeanor was casual, dismissive - but his words were biting and cruel. "A shame, really. He seemed like such a… _nice_ boy."

Anger crashed to the surface at his taunt over Adrian. Before she knew what she was doing, she was trying to feed him her fist. Even as quickly as the anger came, it seemed that Alistair saw her next move coming better than she did. She sent her soul through him, ready to send her body following it and intending on sending him flying through the air at the impact.

She made it about six inches before she was suddenly - soul and body together - being tossed effortlessly the other direction. She crashed through a pew, shattering and splintering the wood around her as she rolled to a stop with a heavy groan.

"Please, just… don't bother," Alistair said, tiredly. "I have no wish to argue, and I _certainly_ have no wish to hurt you. But, I will not suffer being used as a punching bag." His footsteps were on the stone approaching her. He crouched down next to her, a hand stroking back her hair as she tried to push herself up to standing. She only got so far as her knees before her ribs - which were cracked from the blow and were busy healing themselves - stopped her from going any further.

"I do _love_ what you've done with your hair." He had a thoughtful tone to his voice as he brushed the topic in question away from her face and curled a strand of hair around his finger. "I know you likely did it to spite me - to change something about your appearance after you left. But I think it suits you."

Veil let her head fall forward as she struggled for breath through her broken ribs. Adrian had left her here alone, with Alistair. The archangel's own words confirmed it. No doubt, he discovered the truth of the 'history' between Alistair and Veil, and had walked out. That, more than Alistair's easy defeat of her attack, made her heart cinch in defeat.

"There now," Alistair leaned forward and kissed the top of her head, his other hand going to her cheek to gently stroke his thumb along it. The same that Adrian had done, minutes prior. She didn't even bother fighting it - she knew better. If she went to smack him, he'd just push her off like nothing had happened. And if she admitted it to herself, part of it felt normal. Natural. Like old times. "All is not lost. Take a moment to steady your thoughts."

She finally managed to stagger up to standing, wincing as she held her ribs. He stood up from his crouch, and watched her with a thin eyebrow raised - waiting to see what she would do. The look on his face was one of an adult, watching a child struggle with something uselessly. It was a warm, if piteous expression.

"I could simply _take_ you back, you know that I could..." Alistair's voice was quiet, the knife in velvet once again. He reached his hand out to touch her - letting his fingers hover an inch from her face. She felt the warmth radiating from him, calling out to her.

Veil turned her head away and winced. "Then why aren't you?"

"I do not wish to control your mind. Your heart. I never have - and I never will. Your decisions are your own." He lowered his hand with a small sigh - like he was disappointing himself.

"Fuck you," she muttered, but her words lacked conviction or punch.

His forgiving smile made her want to punch him again. "You may spurn me, as many times as you wish, for as long as you wish. Unto eternity, if that is what it takes. I will never turn my back to you," he said, stepping towards her, but stopping before he came too close. "You and I will always together be bound, as loathe as you are to accept that fact today."

Veil turned away from him, and felt the urge to cry again. No. No more.

He saw her flinch and turn away from him, and she heard that warmness in his voice again. "Such strength I did not build into you. What I see before me is of _your_ making, my love. Not mine. Take heart that you are more yourself than any wooden toy of mine."

"Shut _up,_ " was the best she could do. Veil had dreaded this moment for so long - for over _seventy years -_ and yet she had never thought about how it might actually go. And yet, somehow this isn't how she pictured it. With him being… kind. It was hard to yell at him when he wasn't doing anything _wrong._ He had hit her - but because she made the first move. It left her off balance, and unsure how to respond. Or was this whole thing just a fucking lie? Veil sighed and ran both of her hands through her hair, pulling on it she tried to think.

In her (uncharacteristic) silence, Alistair kept talking. But he knew better than to move towards her - or try to touch her. She saw in him the desire to do both, and she appreciated his self restraint. "I have no intention of… entrapping you, if that is your fear. You are free to do as you wish. Now, and ever onwards. I did not wish to create an empty thing, a slave, devoid of will." He bowed his head slightly, and took a step back. "At least in that, I was successful. I would have preferred you take more amicably to my nature, but, c'est la vie, I suppose."

He walked from her then, and made his way back to the pew he had been sitting earlier. It left her standing there - confused, torn - unsure what to do or say. She wanted to call him an insult, but… it would just make her the asshole in this situation.

Veil didn't trust him - didn't even want to consider his words as being honest. They weren't - he was a manipulator. A deceiver. He was playing himself as sympathetic, as kind - to make him the safe port in the storm. To make him the 'easy choice' in the light of Adrian's likely anger.

Some tiny, insignificant part of her wanted to just take the simple way out. Just say yes, and fall into the pattern like 'good old days.' To use him as shelter from the spurious fallout from Adrian, and even likely from Richard.

But this was her suffering to be had - this was what she got, for not telling the Adrian the full truth. For hiding this part of her story from him, until it was too late. With a heavy sigh, she lowered her head - and decided to shelter the storm on her own.

* * *

Veil had taken up a position of sitting on a thick stone windowsill of one of the large stained glass windows. This one was dedicated to Raphael - which she found rather funny, seeing as he was Asmodeus' counter - his 'unfallen' brother. She was sitting sideways in it, her back up against one side of the window, her boots up against the other. Her arms were crossed over her knees, and she was staring at a corner of the stained glass window, her mind empty of anything but misery.

Alistair had not spoken to her since after he'd thrown her through a few of the pews and their little 'welcome back chat' - and he was instead sitting as close to her as he could in an undamaged row, once more reading his Agatha Christie book. You don't outwait an angel - that's one thing she learned a long time ago. And he was plenty content to just leave her there in silence for the time being.

The large wooden door to the sanctuary creaked open - but she heard nobody approach. She didn't look - there was only one person she knew who walked without making a sound, even in a giant stone echo chamber like this.

"Ah, welcome back," Alistair said in greeting to whomever it was who entered. When no one replied, she once again had confirmation of who it was. Silent footsteps, awkwardly quiet in conversation? Adrian. Her heart clenched and her stomach rolled over. In her mind's eye, she pictured herself bashing her head through the stained glass window.

"If you wish to learn my plan, it is this - when you and yours decide to depart for the castle," Alistair began, and she heard him flip a page in his book. "I can create a portal to the inner keep, as I did with my puppets. Once you go, I will summon my armies to fight his and keep them at bay. I will keep them at bay personally until the time is right. Once you reach the fight with the man himself, I will arrive to assist."

"I wish to have a word with Veil," came Adrian's quiet voice.

"Hm? Ah. Yes. Selina. I suppose you do." Veil heard Alistair stand before continuing the 'conversation. His voice grew dark, warm and hot like coals in a smoldering fire. It was a deep purr that made Veil's skin crawl. "Tell me, friend - how was she? What _do_ you think of my lovely creation?"

Silence from Adrian - but that didn't deter Alistair. Very little ever did. His voice was hypnotic. "I sculpted her, after all. I had to create something truly glorious, to sate my… personal interests, as you can imagine," he said with a small chuckle. "I find her to be…" he made a small noise in his throat like a man savoring a fine and expensive wine. "Exquisite. Unforgettable. Second to _none._ And I should know," he kept on the one-sided conversation with no mind to Adrian's silence. "I have had innumerable _thousands_ of lovers in my day… So I'm sorry if she may have ruined all your future encounters."

"I'm sitting right here, _asshole,"_ Veil snapped angrily from her perch in the window. But still, she didn't turn her head to look - she didn't want to meet Adrian's golden eyes.

Alistair chuckle at her insult - not mockingly, but truly as if he enjoyed it as humor. Veil heard his voice become quieter - a velvet rumble. Beguiling and warm - which was his way. He had invented the concept of seduction, after all. "Although - I did said I was a jealous creature, 'Alucard.' But now that I see you, perhaps it is of _her_. Perhaps I may wish to find out for myself, what has so enamored her to you..." His insinuation was about as subtle as a freight train.

"I wish to have a word with Veil. _Alone."_

He laughed again - but not the dark, seductive noise as before. His changed tone like a light switch, as if nothing had just happened. "Not taking my bait, I see!" Alistair responded, sounding pleased. She heard his hand clap onto Adrian's shoulder. She could only imagine how entertained the dhampir must be at that. "Good," the fallen angel continued, unphased "It means you have great restraint - I applaud you. You may just be worthy of her time, after all. And in return, I will leave you two be. I should attend to my followers."

Alistair's footsteps were taking him from the sanctuary of the church. "Now, if you find yourselves becoming frisky, _do_ let me know. I think I would like to share in the fun!" he teased on his way out. But she knew him - and she knew he wasn't _entirely_ kidding.

The silence in his absence was worse than Alistair's taunting.

Veil curled up tighter into a ball, and hugged her knee tighter to her chest. She didn't look at him - she couldn't. "I'm sorry…" she said, her voice quiet. In the silence of the cathedral, it carried just fine.

"Explain why."

"Why what..?"

"Why you lied."

His voice was flat - emotionless. Neither angry, or kind. It was nothing. It was no more than she could ask for.

"How was I supposed to tell you? How exactly would that have worked out?! 'Hey Adrian, yeah - about the whole Alistair thing. Yeah, see, he made me to be his personal _fuck toy._ That cool? We good?'" her words were biting and sarcastic - directed squarely at herself.

But Veil owed him the whole story, didn't she? It should have come out a long time ago. So she shut her eyes, and rested her head against the cool glass of the window, and let it all go. "He wanted a human to love him. To _really_ love him - because he thinks it'll make him more 'like us.' Four thousand years later, and all his options apparently fell short. So he decided to get 'creative.' He had me raised far enough away from him that it wouldn't be creepy when he decided I was ready - but close enough that he knew I'd love him when the time came. He and I were… a thing, for a few years before he killed me by his own hand. That night wasn't my sacrifice _-_ it was our fucked-up _marriage ceremony._ Telling me the truth was Azrael's equally fucked-up wedding gift."

"Explain why you hid this. Why you _lied."_

Veil felt her heart tighten at the accusation. But he was right. How many times had Adrian pressed her for the story? How many times had she promised him that was the last of it? Veil picked at the rolled-up sleeve of her coat, opening her eyes to look down at the marking on her skin. The proof of what she was. "Because it's disgusting! It makes _me_ _disgusting."_

She wanted to scream - to cry, to shove her fist through the stained glass window that really didn't deserve the destruction. So instead of the glass, she slammed her fist into the stone of the windowsill, and felt pain lance through her knuckles in response. "Who would want to be near me?! Who could share feelings with me, knowing I was the little handmade chew-toy of an _archdemon?!"_ The pain felt good, so she punched the stone sill again. "Who would want to touch me, after knowing that? How could I tell that to the guy I'm falling for?! Some stupid part of me wanted to pretend. Some stupid part of me wanted it not to be true." She slammed her fist into the stone again, and saw blood on the stone. Good. "It was all a fucking _lie._ " Another punch into the stone. "I only pray you didn't have feelings for me. I couldn't take it, knowing that the first time you've let someone in-" Another punch, and her fingers were going numb. "Was some worthless, vile piece of _trash like me._ I-"

A hand closed around hers, stopping her from driving her fist into the stone again. She realized she was shaking - fury, hurt, disgust - rampaging through her like a rabid animal.

"Look at me."

Her jaw clenched tight, and she shook her head no - unable to form words to speak. She lowered her head, letting her sapphire hair fall along her face, obscuring her features. Just in case she lost her fight with the tears that came with the rock that had formed in her throat.

His other hand lifted to her face, not letting the matter go. His hand cupped her jawline, and turned her head to his, lifting it.

Before she knew what had happened, his lips were against hers.

It was tender, gentle - letting her pull away if she wanted. It was more than words could have ever said. More than he could have ever expressed. The kindness there broke her battle with the tears, and she felt them streak down her cheeks. His arms wrapped around her, holding her to him in an embrace. She wrapped her arms around behind his neck and as the kiss broke, she hugged him close like she would never see him again.

She buried her head in the crook of his neck, and shut her eyes, feeling him run a hand slowly up and down her back. "You should not have lied," he said, quietly - his voice reverberating in his chest. "There was no need."

She couldn't begin to describe what she felt. Even through his forgiveness and acceptance, there was pain and hurt still wracking her heart. The hatred for having done this, the disgust over what she was. There was a joy, and a sudden… love, for lack of a better word - and the desire to tell him that she did not deserve him, or his forgiveness.

"Thank you…" was all she could manage.

* * *

Adrian had stayed there in silence with her, for some time, letting her gather herself. Finally, she pulled away from him - and _finally_ met his gaze. Her dark eyes were still uncertain, searching his for any sign that he did not mean his words. That he would pull the rug from under her, and condemn her as she had done herself.

Instead, he let his fingers comb through her hair gently, stroking through her soft, dark blue hair. It caught the light from the candles, and made her somehow look as though she should be one of the figures in the stained glass window behind her.

Adrian regretted leaving her here, to awake on her own in the presence of Alistair. But on hearing the truth of her inception - he needed a moment in the outdoor air to think. To weigh his own thoughts and emotions.

He had been hurt that she had not confided in him. He had been angered by her lie. He could not fathom for the life of him, what had brought her to do so. All roads of possibility led him to a darker, deeper betrayal. The reality of it, he could not have predicted. She had somehow assumed that he would have somehow see her as a base, defiled monstrosity. In the face of that, his consternation had crumbled apart to dust.

Did she truly not understand her worth?

Adrian leaned forward to place a kiss against her forehead - feeling her warm skin against him, and could smell the scent of her hair. She had claimed not to know his heart. To not know that she had wound herself around it, and seeped past the defences he had so carefully and meticulously placed over the centuries.

But, such was to be expected. He was not an emotive creature, he knew. Even with those he trusted, with those he cared for - he was reserved. Oft had others accused him of being 'cold' and 'impassive.' Trevor, Sypha, Richter, Maria… all those he had come to call friends or allies. It was not truthful that he was unfeeling. Indeed, he felt emotions quite keenly. But to be raised as a 'sensitive' creature in a place like his father's castle, it was driven from him with such speed, he had little memory of being that way at all. Yet, he had certainly shown Veil more of himself in the past weeks than he had, anyone else in a very long time.

Veil slipped from the windowsill, and said something that he did not fully catch - that they should go find the others, perhaps. He had been too distracted inside his own thoughts to follow. There was still something yet to resolve, though - and he wrapped his hand gently around her wrist, pulling her back around to face him.

Her large, dark eyes looked up at him curiously - still with a nervousness to them that belied her fear that he was about to announce a change of mind. Adrian was torn in half once more - fraught with indecision at a sudden fork in the road. He was horrid at expressing himself properly - and it was safer simply to leave her in the shadows. To speak to her of how he felt - to leave himself exposed in such a way was against his very nature. It was a risk.

But had the 'damage' not already been done? Was he not already vulnerable to her? He sighed deeply, wishing he could stay silent. Wishing he had more of his father's eloquence.

He pulled her close to him, and lowered his head to her ear so that he may whisper the words. "I know not how deep my affection for you may run, but I intend to stay by your side until I do."

Veil wrapped her arms around him once more, and hugged him close to her, as if he were her life itself in that moment. It was not anything he had ever experienced before. Oh, now and again when he saved some fearful maiden from the jaws of a monster, they would look up at him as if he were their fabled savior. But that was in a moment of terror - of survival. This was something entirely different - something entirely new for him. It stunned him - left him unsure precisely what to do. But if he were now stunned, then the words that followed left him reeling.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, you beautiful idiot," she muttered from where she had her head laid on his chest.

Adrian couldn't respond. There were no words for it. Instead, he wound his fingers into her hair, and held her to him. He meant his words, and had no doubt she did as well. If he were the archangel - he would have never let her go. Never had let her walk away, if he had the power to prevent it. This unbreakable, yet fragile creature in his arms. Was he not so similar? What a tragic pair, they made, indeed.

* * *

It was another few minutes before Veil and Adrian managed to gather themselves together enough to walk out of the church sanctuary. Richard, Gabriel and Conrad were standing in the vestibule to one side - and Alistair stood against the other, with Gustav - the german cultist from before.

Veil felt her nerves go back on edge, just at the sight of the archangel. It didn't help when his blue and green, flickering eyes met hers. He raised his hand to politely interrupt Gustav so that he could speak. "I heard no shattering of furniture - I am not sure if I am disappointed or not," he said with a playful smirk.

"Shove it," Veil snapped back, and walked out of the front of the church without looking at anyone. As she crossed the stone landing outside the door, she turned to see that the others had followed, sans Gustav and Alistair.

"So…" Conrad started, and pointed a finger at Adrian - then her, then back to Adrian. "Eh?" he snickered. "Since when've you two been the hot ticket? Wait, lemme guess..."

"Shut up, Conrad," Veil shot back.

"Oh c'mon! The world is ending!" Conrad exclaimed with a sigh. "Allow a man his fun before he dies."

"We have more important matters to attend," Gabriel reminded the Irishman dutifully.

"Veil-" Richard began, looking at her with both concern and hurt. "We need to talk. Please."

She sighed, and nodded her head. He was right. She had a lot to fess up for. She walked down the stairs to the church, leaving Conrad, Gabriel and Adrian to discuss their next steps. Richard followed her, and when she reached the bottom, she turned to him and shoved her hands into her coat pockets.

"How much haven't you told me?" Richard began, his face a mask of dismay.

"I know, I'm sorry. It's… Look, it's not something I want to admit ever happened. It was wrong to not tell you. I know that. It's not that I don't trust you…"

"You and Adrian are a thing - you're Alistair's, sorry, _Asmodeus'_ wife-" Richard said, mid-rant.

"I am _not_ his wife," Veil stopped him, raising her finger to accentuate her words. "He can call me that all he wants, it doesn't make it true."

"But that's what he made you for, isn't it? Not a daughter - a partner."

"So? So what?" Veil threw her hands up in frustration now. "Yes. Fine. We were together for a few years before I found out the truth. It doesn't change anything."

"You didn't tell me!" Richard yelled. "And what else is there, then? What else haven't you told me? When were you going to tell me about you and _the son of Dracula?!"_

"It's recent. Like, really recent - Richard, please stop yelling-" Veil tried to get the man to calm down, but it was no use.

"When?! What, we were all in the lobby watching the world burn and knowing people were dying every minute - and you two were upstairs _fucking?!_ " Richard had reached his breaking point. He was normally so quiet - so nervous, studious and bookish. To see him like this was foreign - and it twisted a knife in her stomach. "I'm scared to death, Veil. Scared out of my mind. I'm going to die here - die in this… mess that people like _you've_ created! I have a wife. I have a _daughter._ I'm going to end up just another bloodstain on the stones - and you'll be fine. You'll live forever - so will Adrian. So will Alistair. I'm a goddamn history professor! What am I supposed to do in the face of this?!" He pointed out at the burning city around them. "Us 'little people' - we're just casualties, aren't we? Set dressing for your soap operas. The very least you could've done was told me the _truth._ "

Richard shook his head, and backed away from her. "Richard, please-" she said, stepping towards him. But he raised his hands as if to say 'no more,' and walked away from her, storming up the steps of the church. He threw open the large wooden door, and was gone.

Veil felt like she'd been slapped in the face. She covered her eyes with a hand, and just let out a wavering sigh. She didn't know she had hurt him so badly. Veil hadn't had the time to check in with him - to talk with him about what was happening. Things were piling up on her so fast, it was hard to keep track of any of it.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she knew by the weight whose it was. "I'm alright," she said quietly to Adrian. "I don't know about him, though. We should expect to go on without him."

"He lashes out in fear, not hatred."

"He isn't wrong," she finally lowered her hand from her face to look up at the stoic vampire. "Fear or hatred, it doesn't matter. He isn't wrong."

* * *

Richard was kneeling at the railing of the altar in the sanctuary, his head bowed. He was praying. Praying for forgiveness. Praying that he lived through this, if only for the sake of his family. Praying for forgiveness once more, for his selfish thoughts in the face of all this death and destruction.

"She means not to cause you such pain," a deep voice said from behind him. Richard turned, startled - and saw Alistair - the fallen archangel, looking down at him with a gentle expression. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he cut a dramatic figure against the granite and marble church.

The 'man' was uncanny - inhuman and too perfect to be _real._ But it was what Richard felt beneath the surface - like a volcano deep under the ground, that left him in awe of the figure in black who stood next to him. Richard wasn't sensitive to these kind of things - but it was so very present, it was impossible not to feel it.

It made Richard swallow thickly in his throat, and slowly push himself to standing. It was like meeting a celebrity - he felt his skin go cold. Fallen or not, this was an _archangel._ A creature older than the Earth. He was a blip on the man's radar - a grain of sand on the beach. He felt so… small. So insignificant.

"Gustav has told me what we know of you and your story - and how it intertwines with Selina. I am deeply sorry to hear of your family's death… If I might ask, in whose service, was the religious order that terrorized you so?"

"B… Botis," he stammered.

Alistair sighed and shook his head. "Fools. Botis is an idiot, and has never required human sacrifice. He barely pays any attention to mankind at all," he said with a regretful air. "It pains me deeply, to see such needless death."

"But…" Richard began, unsure of how to finish the statement. What he wanted to say was, ' _you're a demon. You kill people.'_ But he didn't want to die.

Alistair smiled, seeing the unspoken words written on his face. "How hypocritical of me? Perhaps. Outside of battle, I can count the human lives I have spilt on this earth with two hands, Mr. Blanchard. And I remember the face, and the cause, for each one." Alistair looked up at the cross and the stained glass depictions of angels behind them. "Life spent without purpose is a sin, even to the likes of us."

Somehow, Richard believed him. Something about him was just… calming. Disarming. Richard nodded, not having the words to respond just yet.

Alistair kept his sharp blue and green eyes gazing up at the stained glass windows - at the depictions of his brethren. "You fear for your life. You fear that you will not survive this oncoming storm. I will give you my word that I will see you safely return to your family."

"W… Why…?" Richard asked, stammering again, sounding like a fool. But he had no business being here - no business talking to someone - some _thing_ \- like an archdemon, and king in hell. "I, I mean, thank you."

Alistair laughed quietly, his face splitting into a warm smile. Finally he turned his gaze from the windows and back to him, making him once again feel two inches tall. "Why do you believe that Samael, Lucifer, myself and one half of my brethren, fell from the heavens?"

"I…" Richard blinked. What on earth was he supposed to say that? At best he was going to sound like an idiot, at worst he was going to offend an _archdemon._ But Alistair waited, seeming unphased by his panicked expression. "Samael - wished to become God…"

Alistair nodded faintly - not in conformation of Richard's words, but confirming his own theory of the matter. "No, but… I can see why that myth persists. I know nothing of God. None of us do. None but the Metatron, Samael's twin brother - have ever claimed to speak to him. We are as removed from his grace and glory as you and your kind, my friend."

"Wh… what?" Richard stammered, his eyes going wide at the revelation.

"How could Samael seek to become that which he had never known?" Alistair looked back up at the stained glass windows, sadness and loneliness etching on his perfect features. "I miss them. I miss the glory that was my home… But I do not miss living in willful ignorance. We wondered as you do now, if there really _is_ a God. Samael demanded the truth - to speak to God in the way his brother did. When the Metatron refused - a great battle ensued."

Alistair shut his eyes, letting his head fall forward - jet black hair falling alongside his face. "And then, God's new chosen creatures arose from the darkness… this plane of existence blinking into the world to answer our question once and for all. And to mock our lack of faith. It is for that reason - for what mankind represents - that many of my kind hate you. For you are a constant reminder that we were wrong."

Richard felt the need to sit - and he barely made it to the pew before his legs gave out. He studied facts, truth - things that could be proven and held. He had little faith in anything - not since he was little, and he watched his parents and his sister die for the sake of someone else's 'faith.' Even if he knew that those things did exist - he never held out any hope that angels or any forces of good would ever intervene to help him. As far as he could tell, those things didn't give a hoot.

The archangel continued to speak. "There is a startling lack of difference between my fallen brothers and those who remain in 'Heaven.' Many of them resent you all, just the same. Why would God create you - _speak_ to you, through his prophets, and leave us in the darkness all the same? And yet we watched him leave you in silence, as he had done with us in turn." Alistair let out another long sigh. "But you are my kin - all our kin. Brothers and sisters, left in the darkness once His light left us. And for that reason, I will seek to protect you." Alistair laughed again. "A rather roundabout explanation as to why I would see you survive this night, I suppose - but hopefully sufficient."

Richard nodded dumbly, and noticed his hands were shaking. "You're not what I expected," he blurted out - not sure of where it came from.

"No, I suppose I am not." Alistair turned to look at him with a sadness in his eyes. "She has every cause to hate me. It was self-righteous and egotistical - a moment of vanity to think I had the right to create a life. But I do not regret it. Seeing what she has become… how could I?"

Richard winced, and decided to stare at the granite floor - afraid to look up at the archangel - who was as perfect and meticulous at the architecture of the church. And equally as sculpted. His words cut through the confusion in his mind like a door opening in a dark room.

"She meant not to wrong you, I can assure you of that. But I am her worst nightmare, made flesh once more. She harbors deep resentment towards herself, for her time spent with me… The painting she made for you of my nature, I cannot fault her for - even if it is… not the full truth."

Richard looked up at him then, unable to help himself - and found himself trapped in his gaze - feeling himself freeze. The archangel smiled kindly, and Richard suddenly knew he was going to be fine.


	14. Chapter 14

They had all decided to spend one last night resting before heading back to the castle - one last night at the hotel. Once last night before all hell broke loose. Namely, it was her call - nobody else had come back from the dead that day. Okay, well, fine, maybe Alistair - but he didn't count. She wouldn't complain for a hot shower, a meal, and some peace and quiet.

Veil had offered to help cook up some dinner in the hotel's restaurant. Most of the food was fine and unspoiled, what with there being a generator and all. Oddly enough, it was Gabriel who joined her in the kitchen. And pretty soon, it was made very clear that he outclassed her in every possible way in the kitchen - and she became his assistant.

Conrad was leaning against the door jamb between the kitchen and the seating area - drinking a beer - doing nothing to help except chat with them. Adrian was looming off in the corner, sitting and staring darkly out of the window - and Richard had vanished entirely once they had returned. The two of them hadn't spoken since Richard's blow up - and he was locked deep in thought during the trek back.

"Gabe's a regular Julia Child," he said with a grin, sipping the beer again.

"I can see that," Veil said with a laugh, as she diced an onion. It felt so strange - to be here, trying to be normal, having a meal… before they marched off to battle Dracula. Before they were likely going to wind up dead. Or worse.

"I swear, he kept me alive in Catechism," Conrad continued, his accent becoming thicker the more he drank. "They don' very much care for spendin' a lot of effort on the likes of us in the Order. That's not good 'nuff for our Italian bred friend here - nuh uh. Gabe'd sneak off to make his own meals. So I'd mooch off 'em as much as I could."

"I cannot argue with any of that," Gabriel responded with a smirk.

"So… okay," Conrad started, thoughtfully peering down into his beer bottle with one eye closed. "Spill it."

"Spill what?" Veil asked, really not wanting to answer whatever the topic was going to be about.

"How'd it happen? You two? I don't see 'im exactly makin' moves on anyone. He's not exactly Don Juan over there." Conrad waggled a thumb over at Adrian, who if he heard - didn't react.

"You're too old for me to give you the birds and the bees speech," she shot back with a grin. The Irishmen let out a single 'bah!' of a laugh. Veil shrugged, and kept dicing the onion in front of her. "I don't know," she answered more honestly. "It just kind of happened. One of Vlad's vampires - a little shit named Octavian - he, well… tortured us both. Badly. Going through that together just kind of… removes all the normal social barriers, I guess. Cuts through the small talk."

"Tortured you..?" Gabriel asked, warily. "How so?"

"Oh, y'know, the normal stuff," Veil said bitterly. "Cut out my tongue to watch me drown in my own blood. Cut off my leg, to see what would happen. Ate a chunk of Adrian like he was steak tartare - used a copper spigot to-"

"Enough, enough, please-" Gabriel said with a breath, as if he was avoiding being sick. "I do not wish to lose my appetite."

"You asked," Conrad pointed out, sounding rather sick himself. "That's… awful, honey, I'm so sorry."

Veil nodded silently, not really wanting to talk about it. "Thanks."

"Well, I for one, am happy for you two, weird and twisted love birds," Conrad said with a dramatic shift up in mood. "I think you make an adorable pair of probably-shouldn't-exist abominations."

Veil shot him a look - although it wound up being playful. "Thanks."

Gabriel seemed to want to change the subject - being uninterested or at least too polite to question Veil's new 'relationship' with the dhampir. "Alistair is not what I would have expected," Gabriel said, thoughtfully. "He is…"

"Not a monster," Veil finished for him, and using the back of the knife she was using, scraped the diced onions into a bowl, and went on to the mushrooms. "No. He's not. He's not like Dracula - killing countless thousands of people for fun. But that doesn't mean you can trust him."

"He is forthcoming," Gabriel said, and sighed. English as his second language was getting in his way again. "Accessible," he tried again, sighed, still frustrated. "He speaks of what he knows willingly," he finally concluded. "Your language has poor words for such a thing."

Veil laughed at his pointing the finger at the language itself, and smiled at him. "I get what you're saying. And yeah, he is. If you can trust what comes out of his mouth. He's wants to be loved, adored and accepted. So he'll say whatever he needs to, to make that happen."

"I see," Gabriel said thoughtfully. "I wish he could be trusted… Such an opportunity - such a wealth of knowledge of Heaven and Hell."

"It's playin' with fire, like she said," Conrad said. "I'm sure he'd tell ya whatever you wanted to know. For a price."

"See, it's worse than that, even." Veil started slicing up the mushrooms and tossing them into the bowl as she finished them. "It's not even a price you know you're paying. You're not signing a scroll and selling him your soul. You're cutting it off piece by piece, and handing it to him willingly. Freely. It's a trap."

The two priests were silent for a long moment, considering her words. Conrad spoke up first. "I fer one, don't trust the pretty bastard."

Veil smiled at him, appreciating the sentiment greatly. She never would have predicted enjoying the company of a pair of priests from the Holy Order. But as far as people went, they really weren't half bad at all.

In fact, she could almost think she might call them friends.

They fell into amicable silence - except for Gabriel occasionally giving her directions on what to do next for the meal.

Pasta and garlic bread were the only items on the menu for the night - namely because it could be made in one large batch. Alistair had joined them in the hotel with about fifteen or twenty of his cultists. He had been distracted by them for the past few hours - as he had not seen 'his people' in seventy years. She wouldn't complain that he was absent.

Adrian hadn't moved - he might as well have been a statue - since he took up his post by the window. He looked like a man displaced out of time - his antiquated clothing against the 'attempting to be modern on a budget' poorly done damask wallpaper and dated lighting of the hotel restaurant. Like the Mona Lisa on the wall of a New York deli. It had no business being there.

She snapped him out of his reverie when she put down two bowls of pasta on the table with a quiet _thump_. He blinked, turning to look up at her startled - as if she really had caught him off guard. Seeing it was her, he did little more than relax his face into its normal, stoic mask. If she hadn't come to know him as she had, she'd almost have been offended. But that was actually a compliment, in his own weird way. Chuckling through a smile, she walked away once more to fetch something else as equally as important as the food.

Veil sat back down at the table, plunking down a bottle of red wine and two glasses. "Seeing as we _apparently_ do everything entirely out of order, and never got to go on a 'first date,'" Veil said to him with a mischievous smile. "This'll have to do."

Adrian took the bottle, his lips twisted in a thin smile, and worked the screw into the cork, before pulling out the stopper with a telltale _pop._ He poured her a glass, then himself, and lifted it to his nose. Sniffing it, he winced, looking at her accusatorily.

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad-" she picked it up and sipped it - the crass and bitter flavor hitting her unexpectedly. "Oh god, it's that bad," she said through a cough.

Adrian chuckled before sipping it, and made another brief face before looking down into the offending liquid. "Romania is not known for its wine," he observed dryly.

"Eh, it suits us. Might not be the right time, or the right place - but here we are nevertheless." She raised her glass to him, and he clinked his against hers with a small smile of his own.

"Here is to the wrong time, and to the wrong place," he toasted.

Veil smiled, loving his Arizona-dry sense of humor. "Better words were never spoken."

He did, to her surprise - actually eat food. He didn't need to, he said - he could go for a very long time without doing so. But, it was yet another hunger that he kept pinned down. He had said it like it was just another burden, one more pound of weight on his shoulders.

She very much wanted to remind him that eating food wasn't a sin. And this was a vegetarian meal, to boot. Veil felt so bad for him - to feel like he needed to deny himself everything, all the time - for no other reason than because of who he was. That he thought the only thing he was allowed to subsist on was suffering.

They had finished eating and had taken the bottle of awful - but serviceable wine - off to the balcony and away from the din of other people eating and conversing. The cool air felt nice against her face. As they stood next to each other, bottle of wine between them on the railing, she knew he would just stand there next to her, staring off at the hazy red sky and the smoldering city, and never 'impose' on her.

God, how she wished he'd 'impose' sometimes.

Suddenly, she had the keen desire to see what Adrian was like when he was drunk… If they both came out of this alive, she'd have to figure out exactly how well a 'half vampire' could hold his alcohol.

But for now, she'd have to impose on him, instead. Veil lifted his arm, slipped herself in underneath it, and stuck herself between him and the railing. He watched her, thin eyebrow raised, as she settled his arm back down on the railing where it had been, and resumed their gazing out at the city as if nothing had happened.

Adrian chuckled quietly in his throat, and she felt him kiss the back of her head lightly, before shifting slightly to hold her closer to him. He was amused by her 'antics,' at least. He put his hand on hers where it rested on the balcony, letting his fingers lace in between hers. She was smiling without realizing it. She did that a lot - and it only took the simplest little gestures from him to make her beam like an idiot.

She picked up her glass of wine and sipped it, and snickered at how miserable the wine was. "I think it's only burning less, because it's making my tongue go numb."

"It really is atrocious," he agreed, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Beggars, choosers, and all that jazz."

He didn't respond, but turned his head to rest his cheek against the top of her head, and let one of his arms circle around her, holding her to him. It felt… safe. Peaceful. Like this could be normal, someday.

Unfortunately the moment didn't last. The door to the balcony swung open, and Adrian stepped away to turn to see who had joined them. The hand that was on hers suddenly tightened. She didn't need to ask - she could feel the presence behind her, like nails on a chalkboard. Veil felt her shoulders tense, felt the dread well up in her at what was about to happen.

"I do _hate_ to interrupt," Alistair said with no small amusement in his voice.

"Then don't," she recommended.

He ignored her. "There is a topic to resolve before you both leave for war in the morning. Fortuitous that I should find you and he in such a canderous manner, as it is… precisely the matter at hand I wish to discuss."

Veil turned to look at him, her eyes narrowed. She wondered when he'd bring it up - _really_ bring it up - that she was 'dating' Adrian. That felt like such the wrong word for whatever it was going on between her and the dhampir - but, whatever. She wished she had her glaive, and Adrian his sword. This was likely to go… less than stellar.

Alistair was a sharp silhouette against the lit room behind him, and he clasped his hands idly behind his back, watching them with keen, sharp and brightly colored eyes. Adrian was, as always - silent. Veil decided to follow his lead, and let the archangel speak first. He was the one who started it, after all.

The archangel stepped forward, his black, chin-length hair falling along his sharp features. "I am sincerely disappointed, if I am honest, to find you… romantically involved. At least it is not with a mortal - you were wise enough to spare yourself that particular pain of loss." Alistair tilted his head to the side, thoughtfully, as he observed Adrian - as if weighing him against some invisible scale - judging him. "He is… worthy of you, for a time at least."

"Get to the point, _Al,_ " she said, abbreviating his name to use it as a pejorative.

Alistair sneered and lowered his head slightly, looking up at her through his lashes - somehow looking both alluring and exceedingly dangerous. "I could force this matter entirely, and you are well aware of that, Selina. I could have you both dancing from puppet strings without even uttering a _single word_."

The threat called her bluff. He could do just that, and she knew it. He'd have both of them on their knees with little more than a thought from him. He was a bottle of vodka to an alcoholic. A needle to an addict. As strong as she was - as strong as she knew Adrian was - no one could hold their own in a game of wills with the archangel - _archdemon -_ Asmodeus. If he wanted them for slaves - he'd already have them begging and pleading for his kindness.

Her jaw twitched, and she stayed silent. Alistair, pleased at his small victory, continued to speak. "I came to inform you, in case you were waiting for some great retribution - that you have nothing to worry over. I have decided I will allow this-" he gestured between the two of them, if patronizingly, "-to continue… without my meddling."

"Why?" she asked, not believing him. There was no way in hell that he was just going to walk away, and let them be. It wasn't _possible._

"Assuming you two do not simply tire of each other, which is the most likely outcome of your little tryst - there is another matter entirely that you are neglecting to address. You and I are eternal… We will exist long after this puny world has burned away. He, for his agelessness - will still fall to the blade and die. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps in ten thousand years. But mark me, it is inevitable. He is a temporary barrier. So I… will be content to wait." He turned to leave once more, and stopped, his back to them, his head turned to cast a sidelong glance at her. "Cast these words away as lies if you must - but I wish you nothing but happiness, Selina..."

And with that, the fallen archangel walked through the door of the balcony and back into the restaurant - leaving her torn and uncertain once more. Veil was ready for a fight - she was _hoping_ for one - and instead… he said 'fine' and walked away. Let them be? Bullshit. He was right - she didn't buy it. Didn't believe him. She turned to the railing and punched it, hard - feeling the pain lance up into her hand and up to her elbow.

Adrian sighed next to her, and gripped her fist before she could punch the railing a second time. "Why must you do that?"

"I can't punch him, now can I?!" she bit angrily, but didn't pull her hand away from his. He pried her hand open - although she didn't much fight him - with the gentle invasion of his fingers into her palm. He kissed her reddened knuckles.

"I wish you would not cause yourself such pain."

She glanced nervously towards the door - but Alistair had gone. Adrian was watching her keenly with his golden eyes. "You are worried he is lying."

"Aren't you?"

"It does not much matter." Adrian stepped towards her, and she felt rooted to the spot as his hand slipped along her neck, and up to her jaw, slipping into her hair and to the back of her neck. Veil felt her eyes slip shut - unable to keep a straight thought in her head. "For you have no mind to return to him - and I have no mind to let him change it."

His lips ghosted over hers, and she shivered. All her worries over Alistair were driven away by Adrian's presence. Her hand found its way to his side, slipping her hand along his hip. He smiled against her, hovering his lips close to hers, yet not sealing the kiss.

His lips moved away from hers, and she felt his breath against her ear. It was not as chill as she remembered - perhaps the blood he had taken from her was the cause. He spoke, a velvet whisper, with just the faintest warmth against her skin. "Let us take this… absolutely ungodly wine to somewhere more undisturbed."

* * *

Trevor had often tried to wager bets with Adrian about all manner of ridiculous things. The weather, the odds of him being able to take the head off of a statue with his whip - or how quickly he could kill monsters. Trevor had a particular penchant for destroying candelabras or other such things - and would wager bets as to how many he could destroy in a certain timeframe.

Adrian had never taken him up on any of them - and although he reacted in his steadfastly deadpan manner, he had enjoyed it deeply. It was Trevor's unabashed love of life that had endeared him to the dhampir in such an indelible manner. In that fashion, he could almost hear Trevor sarcastically putting forth a monetary wager for whether or not he, the son of Vlad Dracula himself - would ever wind up lounging in the embrace of the daughter of _Death_.

He wouldn't have taken that bet. Not for any amount.

And yet, here he was, lying in the bed of the hotel suite, his head on her shoulder, her arm wrapped over his chest. They had finished the bottle of awful wine, and while what had followed was perhaps less _violent_ than their first foray - it was no less physical. She pushed him further and further - each time he felt he had found a limit, she dared him to go beyond that. It was a release that he had never let himself entertain - even in his more innocent youth.

Adrian felt spent - and yet, fulfilled, all the same.

Her hand was resting on his collarbone - her fingertips tracing the outline slowly, absentmindedly. It was lulling him into a place of half-aware sleep - her warmth, her softness. The gentleness of the bed underneath him - it was a far cry from the stone coffin he had slept in for hundreds of years alone.

Adrian hadn't realized that he had slipped his fingers in between hers, and drew her hand to his lips. It wasn't until he felt the throb of her heartbeat beneath his kiss that he realized he had moved at all. He felt the prick of his fangs against the inside of his lip - it was the sweet, dizzying cry of her blood and her pulse that had pulled him there.

He stiffened, his eyes opening, all motion freezing. She had lulled him into such a state that he had almost bitten her, without even realizing it. Adrian felt such… disgust, well up within him. What kind of monster would he be, if he had done such a thing without pause? Veil was immune to death at his hands - but this is precisely why he denied himself such things!

What if he had been with a mortal woman? He would have killed them in a careless moment, and been unable to stop himself.

"Y'know," she said quietly, thoughtfully, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Maybe if you hadn't kept starving yourself for _hundreds of years_ , you wouldn't lose control."

"This is not a laughing matter," he said quietly, angrily - squarely at himself - and lowered her hand back to his chest.

Veil buried her head in his hair, kissing the top of his head, and he felt her shift to wrap her other arm around him. "It's alright, Buttercup. It really is. You're not some dumb blood-crazed, out of control beast. You're _starving._ If you were a full vampire - you'd probably have gone apeshit crazy and slaughtered a whole town by now."

His silence reigned, and he tried to find a resolution in the poorly done stucco of the ceiling.

"Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me it isn't your human side - _and your sheer fucking willpower -_ that's kept you from going into survival mode and tearing up anything that moved."

Adrian could only sigh in response. She was right. His human half kept the vampiric one in check - keeping his primal, bestial side from protecting itself by rendering himself unable to protest to his bloodthirsty urges.

His father had once mortared one of his elder vampires away in a wall for a hundred years in punishment for some crime or another. Adrian had not been alive when the deed was initiated - but he was there for the creature being released. And it was not a man that emerged from the vault - it was a _thing_ that crawled out from the darkness. He was an insane, irrational and unreasonable beast who knew only to hunt, to kill - to _feed._ Adrian could remember its flashing raw white nails - the bone of its hands, worn away from clawing at stone and cement. The fangs, glinting in the light of the torches - weren't that of a gentlemen predator. They were of a monster.

Adrian was no such thing - and he had gone for far longer than that vampire had, without tasting the living wine of another.

But now, he had tasted it twice - once to repair his dying body, and the other in a moment of passion. This was neither of those moments, devoid of the heated passion and the need of those instances where he had let his teeth pierce her flesh. This was in 'cold blood' - for lack of a better term.

"Why would you let me do such a thing..?" he asked, confused and dismayed. His fingers were still interlaced with hers - unwilling to let her go, even as he cast such vile judgement towards his own person.

Veil chuckled - he felt her shake underneath him slightly. "Seriously?"

Adrian stayed silent - as he did not know what she was questioning. Her statement made no sense to him - and ergo, he had no manner to devise a response. So, she kissed the top of his head again.

"God, we're a pair of miserable little shits, aren't we? Let's play a game: 'Who hates themselves more?' Christ," she said with another small, sarcastic laugh. "Fine. I'll explain it. I let you do it because I _want to -_ you pretty idiot."

"But… why?" Adrian had known those in his father's castle who had hypnotised their prey - kept them rapt and under their control. Addicts to a drug - a drug of attention, of care, of ecstacy. He knew that the bite brought pleasure, but he did not think Veil was so weak to succumb to that alone. But as he had never been himself fed from - he could not say what it was that Veil experienced.

"Besides it feeling like some weird high? It… I don't know," she sighed, trying to think of a way to phrase her thoughts. "I'm helping you. I'm giving you something you thought you could never have. That makes me feel good, Adrian. It makes me feel… close to you. There's a connection that I feel, that's more even than when we have sex. I mean, the sex is goddamn _fantastic -_ don't get me wrong," she said, and he smirked. "And the fact that I'm 'safe' for you? That you can't go too far and permanently cause me any damage? I'm about as guilt-free as it's ever going to get."

She rolled over, leaning on her elbow to look down at him, mostly upside-down to his view. She ran her fingers through his hair gently, stroking locks of it away from his face. "You're warmer to the touch, now. You're stronger, better, faster-" she said, and he guessed she was making a quote that he did not understand. She let it pass and continued talking. "And you're less… okay, you're still pale. Like, stupid pale - but not _translucent_ anymore. It makes me feel… I don't know. Important."

"You are important regardless," was the only part of her words to which he managed to form a response. The rest of it, sunk deep into him and was beyond his ability to form any meaningful reply. What she said was of such magnitude, that any paltry words from him would fail to hold a candle to her own.

"I'm going to make this _super clear-"_ she tapped her finger on his head, lightly - as if getting the attention of an errant student. "You can bite me. Whenever you need. Whenever you _want._ " She winked coyly at him - and if it had been possible, he might have blushed at her next words. " _Wherever_ you want."

Veil leaned down to kiss his forehead. "And to perfectly clear - I _want_ you to. I get a real chance to use this stupid 'I can't die' superpower of mine for something other than just bringing me a lot of pain. And I'm not going to lie - watching you… lose your mind a little? Going a little crazy? It's kind of _stupid_ hot."

Adrian scrambled to piece together the meaning of her last five words - and when he managed to sort out what they likely meant, he shut his eyes and chuckled. Wicked images flashed through his mind of all the manners of ways that, yes, he could _easily_ imagine playing out with her. How he wished to pitch himself into her inferno once more. "You are a succubus indeed."

"Are you actually complaining, Buttercup?"

"Not even in the slightest." Adrian lifted her hand to his lips once more, and kissed her palm, the heel of her thumb, letting his kiss wander down to her wrist. She kept gently toying with the hair at his temple, and he knew she was watching him with keen interest. Each previous time he had fed from her neck - far more intimate, but far less removed from the event itself. She had been unable to observe the act.

"You are certain," he whispered against her skin, feeling the thudding of her pulse quicken as he let his tongue taste her sweet skin.

"Next time you ask me such a stupid question, I'm going to punch you in the goddamn face."

Adrian smiled. Sometimes her mannerisms reminded him of Trevor - albeit in a far, far more feminine and _far_ more enjoyable package. But Adrian could distinctly recall the Belmont levying that same exact threat in identical words in his direction. Although he was certain over a far different question of origin.

"No need…" he whispered, and once again could not understand why the gods had graced him with such a gift. Such a reprieve from the cold, and the dark, and the death that had been his only world to date. How ironic it came in the package of the daughter of death itself.

He let his fangs pierce the tender skin at the inside of her wrist, finding the vein easily. Her hot, sweet blood splashed against his tongue, thick and rich, and he sucked slowly from the wound. He felt it seep into him and bring him more warmth than a mulled wine on a winter night ever could. It was a taste - a heat - a _life_ he thought he would never feel rushing through his veins ever again.

She gasped in the momentary pain - and he felt the fingers twining his hair flinch. It would be gone in an instant he knew, and sure enough, he felt her muscles relax once more - the pain forgotten. He heard a deep purr leave his throat, rumbling against her skin as he drank. His eyes had slid shut - and his fingers left her own to gently hold her wrist - not to force it there, but to keep her from moving and hurting herself needlessly.

Veil let out a soft moan, and he felt her hair brush against his cheek as she lowered her head for a moment. "Fuck," she muttered quietly. "I can see why people get hooked to this," she said with a breathy laugh.

He would not drink much. He did not need to. His needs were far less, as he was not a full vampire. He felt his body flush with warmth at her blood coursing through him, felt his own heart begin to beat once more.

He withdrew his teeth from her skin, and let his tongue run slow circles around the small puncture marks - licking up the lines of blood as they oozed slowly from the wound. He had not let spill a single drop - and he would not squander any of her if he could do anything to prevent such a tragic waste.

Veil healed quickly - indeed faster so than most of his own kin, and soon enough the damage had closed, ceasing to bleed.

Adrian let his eyes open only then, as he wound his fingers back into her hand, and looked to where she had lowered her head, her sapphire hair falling about her face, her other hand gripping the sheets.

He thought perhaps he had drank too much - but she lifted her head and took in a deep breath, and her dark eyes met his - sparkling with a heady, dazed and awed expression. She smiled, and kissed him. He knew she could taste her own blood on her lips, but seemingly she little cared.

Adrian knew he would sleep well this night, with her against him - and this time, he did not doubt that both parties would rather be nowhere else.

* * *

The 'morning' came way too damn fast for Veil's taste. 'Morning,' being questionable, because the castle's corruption had spread this far, and the sun no longer rose. Instead, the sky was that awful, hazy red, cast by the moon that was painted crimson when it hovered low in the sky.

She was born from this world of monsters and demons - and it seemed she was going to be doomed to live inside of it. One way or another, this battle against Vlad was not ending with them all skipping off into the sunset together.

At least she had some solace in Adrian. At least for the time being. Who knew what was going to happen to them once they were back inside the castle of the damned.

They were ready - standing down in the lobby, waiting for Richard. She hadn't seen him since their blowout the night prior, and she didn't want to march off without trying to patch things up. He had moved into his own suite (probably wise, what with her and Adrian being 'a thing' now,) and nobody had seen him.

Her glaive - the beautiful gift from her 'dad' - Death, slung over her shoulder by its strap. She could feel it digging into her back, but not enough to be painful. Namely, because Veil was leaning against the counter, looking down at her phone. She'd texted him an hour earlier, and he said he'd be down to see them off. She was terrified the man would ignore her - but hopefully he had calmed down a bit.

Gustav - Alistair's 'head cultist' - was also standing there waiting, along with Gabriel and Conrad. Adrian was looming in a window nearby - gazing out at the city that had seemed to stop burning at least _so badly._ Small victories, right?

"You will not regret restoring Alistair to this world," Gustav said - and it took her a minute to realize the goon was talking to her. The German was beaming - well, in so much as a German can 'beam.'

"Can I hold you to that?" she replied, annoyed. "'Cuz you're wrong."

"You will see," he said back with a smile. "He will stop Dracula's army. He will protect this world."

"That's the idea," she muttered as she looked back down at her phone. She texted Richard again - ' _Hurry up the freaky cultists are here and if I don't leave soon I'm going to punch one.'_

Three little dots in a bubble, and then ' _LOL. On my way.'_

That sounded more like her friend. She smiled, relieved. He had been the closest thing she had to a friend for the past thirty years or more. Veil didn't know who - or _how -_ any of them might come out the other side of this.

When she heard footsteps approach on the stone floor, she looked up - and it wasn't Richard. It was Alistair. Damn it. His bright, blue and green gaze fell immediately onto her, and he smiled at her, if barely. Gustav walked up to him, and bowed - which made Alistair sigh. "Please, Gustav, stop that. I do not want such genuflections or reverence."

"Yes, my Lord - I mean, Sir," Gustav tried to quickly recover.

Veil snickered. "Gee, Al, it's almost like they're a _cult_ or something."

Gustav ignored her. "The preparations are done. We are outside, when all parties are ready to depart." He physically fought the urge to bow again and turned to leave the lobby, walking out of the hotel and down to the street. A few others were gathered there, including some of the wooden puppets with human souls bound to them.

"Be gentler on them, Selina. They mean no harm," Alistair said to her, and walked up to her with a leisurely pace. Not wanting to move too quickly to alarm her.

Veil wanted to recoil or walk away - but to do so would give him some kind of power over her. So instead, she slipped her phone into her pocket and propped her elbows up on the counter she was leaning on. "Right. Sure they don't. I'm sure they're all lovely people. I'm sure the human souls trapped inside your wooden marionettes _were_ lovely people."

"They entered into that bond willingly," he said, his voice gentle even as it was scolding her. "Each chose it of their own free will. You know I would not demand, or even _ask_ such a thing of anyone."

"You don't _ask_. You worm your way into people's minds," she retorted.

"Ah, and so we get to the root of it all," Alistair let out a small breath, and reached up to touch her hair. When she pulled away, he simply lowered his hand once more - clearly hurt, but swallowing it for the moment. "You cast every kind thought towards me as one that I have seduced in some foul manner."

"Yup, that pretty much sums it up."

Alistair lowered his head for a moment, and she watched as his hands clenched into fists before slowly relaxing. That bothered him - more so than anything else she'd said so far. Even more than her being involved with Adrian. "May I speak to you in private for a moment?" he asked her, clearly dreading her response.

He was so certain that she would say 'no,' that it put her in a hard spot to actually refuse him. Veil hated being dared - hated being told how she was going to think. So it was a perfect way to get her to do the opposite. But all he wanted to do was talk. Fine. She nodded, and he lead her away from the lobby into a side corridor. When Adrian looked to her to silently ask if everything was alright, she nodded once in response - and he returned to look out the window without any further motion. He trusted her to handle herself - which was nice. She liked that he didn't feel the need to protect her all the time.

Alistair folded his hands behind his back, his tall stature making him look like a black ink blot against the aging white plaster walls - looking out of place and unnatural in his surroundings. He always looked that way - unable to blend in, always drawing a crowd. He always looked more like a painting of some tragic figure than a human. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried - he couldn't ever escape what he was and really 'blend in.'

When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, once again shrouded in velvet - but this time wrapped in pain. "I have done nothing to harm you… I have done nothing but help you, and to aid the humans whose lives are so thoughtlessly squelched by _monsters._ You are my wife, and yet I have released you to live your life, as you see fit."

"I'm pretty sure the fact that I killed you ten minutes after the 'ceremony' counts a pretty solid annulment," Veil snapped.

Alistair shut his eyes. "I did not come here to argue. Regardless, I have sworn not to meddle with your… relations with another man. I have vowed that I will not interfere. What more would you have me do, Selina…?" He looked up at her, with blatant, helpless sorrow. "I _love_ you. More than anything else in this world, I want you by my side. But I am letting you go - understand what that means for me, how difficult that is for me. What more must I do, to convince you I mean no harm…?"

That cracked her armor of belligerence. Her self-righteousness. Veil let out a long breath, and straightened up off of the counter. She didn't like being the asshole. He radiated such a broken-hearted, desolate pain and abandonment, she had to look away. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. "Right now, I really don't know. Time, I guess."

"'Time' is something we certainly have in abundance," he replied. "This was not the marvelous homecoming I imagined, I must admit… but I have always been one to fantasize."

She had to laugh quietly at that, and it was only because she knew his strange, somewhat self-deprecating sense of humor. She had spent years with him, after all - going to the opera. Going to see the sights. Living life, alongside him. Veil felt now like she had been a child, then - an idiot, swept up in him and sheltered from the 'real world.'

"Thanks for not… being a major asshole about all this," she said finally, unsure how to really put it into words. "You could be. I know that. I know a lot of your brothers and sisters wouldn't be so nice about Adrian."

"Mephisto would be having a perfect _fit,"_ Alistair laughed and looked off, fondness and humor returning to his expression at the thought of his closest sibling taking his place in this situation.

"Well, yeah, I mean, he invented jealousy, and all that," she said with a snicker. She had met Mephisto, once. Tall, skinny guy - quiet. Incredibly intelligent. A little creepy in the 'scarecrow' kind of sense. Baal was worse. Far worse. Fat, pervy, loud, short. Barf.

Contrary to popular belief, many of the 'higher ups' from both sides could walk the earth for a time, at their will. Mostly they just chose _not_ to. Coming to this plane of existence was seen as a chore or 'slumming it' by most of their standards - and they had little interest in hanging out with insignificant mortals.

A sudden thought hit her.

She looked at him, and realized for the first time, really what she had done by ripping his soul into the spirit plane and leaving it there. "You couldn't go home, could you…"

Alistair's voice was strained as he responded - as if he were unwilling to admit to her what had happened. "No."

He had been trapped in the spirit world - for over seventy years. Alone. Stuck there while that plane of existence tried to suck him dry - unable to muster enough power to leave it. With only enough strength to move one of his puppets and talk through some empty shells of a person or two.

Veil never really believed that people were truly evil, or truly good. That everyone was a mix of both. Even Alistair. Even Vlad. Even her. And right now _,_ what she had done to him… may not have fit his crime. She took a step back to lean against the wall, and found herself staring straight at his shoes. "I'm sorry," she said - and discovered she meant it. She knew what that place was like, when you didn't belong there. The cold - the pain. It went on endlessly, without pity or remorse. "Nobody deserves that. Nobody."

"I earned that punishment for deceiving you. For believing I could 'play God,' and _make_ you love me."

Veil grit her teeth. "I don't… trust you. I don't forgive you."

"It would be unreasonable for me to think that you would."

"What _do_ you want from me?" she finally asked, looking up at him. He hadn't asked for anything from her. Nothing at all.

"What do I want?" he laughed quietly. "I have never been shy about making such things known. What I want, is for you to love me. What I want, is for us to be together again - for you to once more be _my_ Selina. But what I want, more than all of that - is for those things to be real. Not forced. Not coerced. I understand neither of those things can happen. Not now, at the very least." He stepped towards her - not threateningly. "What I simply ask - is that if you can help it, do not hate me for things I have not done."

Veil watched him - looking for any ploy, any hint that he didn't mean it. But… she couldn't find anything. So, she simply nodded.

"I am likely to not see you for many years, regardless. I doubt that when the castle falls, you will seek me out. When I send you through that gate in a few moments time, it is goodbye for however long you wish it to be. I can only accept that, knowing you harbor no unwarranted distaste for me."

"Only warranted distaste," she quipped.

"Indeed," he said with a smirk. But his smile faded into heartbreak once more, as he continued to speak. "I cannot stand to think that this may be goodbye… The hope of seeing you once more, was all that kept me sane in that frozen world of death." He reached out to her once more - and she saw that with more than anything, he wanted to touch her. To hold her. He was so… forlorn. Broken. "Tell me there is hope that someday you may return to me. That we are not too far gone."

Veil stammered, unsure of what to say. "You're asking me that if someday I might… what, love you again? How the _hell_ I supposed to answer that? I don't know!"

Alistair lowered his head, shutting his eyes. "I am pleased it is not an outright no. I will accept that." He opened his sharp, glinting blue-green eyes once more and lifted his head to look at her, his head still tilted to watch her through his lashes. "I wish to hold you once, before I do not see you again."

Veil let out a small groan and looked away. God, she didn't want to - the thought made her skin crawl. Not because he was vile or disgusting - but precisely because he _wasn't._ But he wasn't asking her for anything ridiculous. Just a hug. A hug goodbye. Everything that he was doing for her - for humanity. She could stomach one hug. "Fine…"

She stepped away from the wall, and Alistair did not hesitate. He wrapped his arms around her gently, and she could smell his cologne. It was such a flashback to her 'youth.' To the years she spent with him. He had never been unkind or cruel to her. She felt his tall, powerful frame against hers. She felt wrapped up in him - like she always had. In his presence, in his power. Veil fit so perfectly against him - of course she did, she spitefully reminded herself. He _made you._ He had sculpted her to be his perfect dream - his perfect woman.

It was that reminder that had her gently pushing him away, and he stepped away from her obediently. He seemed… shaken up - upset. He nodded gently, and turned to look away from her. Was he… was he about to _cry?!_

"It will be time to go soon. You should say your goodbye to Richard. He passed us into the lobby a moment ago." Alistair kept his face away from her.

Veil wanted to reach out to touch his arm - to try and console him. But she stopped herself. No. Who knew if it was a trick? God damn him, she didn't know what to believe anymore. But this was his M.O. This is how he worked. She hated hurting anyone. But even if she were to try and console him, what would she really say? How could she fix it?

She wasn't going to get back together with him. Not now, and not ever - not the way she saw her life playing out. Anything was possible, she supposed - I mean, she was romantically involved with the son of Vlad Dracula for fuck's sake. So she couldn't tell him she knew for sure - but she sure as hell wasn't going to jump back into trusting him.

"Yeah. I'm going to go do that," she muttered, and turned to walk away from him back towards the lobby.

She made it about three feet before the earth itself moved.

Veil squeaked and fell against the wall as the ground underneath her lurched to one side - like a funhouse. Like an _earthquake._

"Veil!" she heard Adrian shout from the lobby. She staggered and tried to make it further, but the walls lurched and she heard plaster cracking and wood splintering apart. Like the sound of a shipwreck from a movie.

An hand on her elbow kept her from eating the floor - she turned, and Alistair had grabbed her, pulling her back up to her feet and quickly letting her go again as she caught her balance. "Thanks, I-" The floor began to split, and crack - the tile ripping apart like paper. "Oh _fuck."_

Something came pushing up through the floor. It was a stone spire - a section of a wall had split the floor, and was crashing up through the hotel walls and floor, tearing it to pieces at it rammed its way through. The carving on the stone spires made it very clear what it was - it was the castle _itself._

While they had waited to attack the castle - the castle had come _to them._

The floor buckled and warped underneath her. Rippled like water - bending and snapping with the sound of stone crumbling and the deafening noise of the walls being pulled to pieces.

Veil fell backwards as the world bucked upwards - and she screamed as nothing stopped her. The ground beneath her cracked and opened up as she plummeted into the darkness.

The last thing she remembered was the sound of her own scream.


	15. Chapter 15

**Here we go - chapter 15! Enjoy. :)**

* * *

Only once in her life had Veil gotten well and truly 'blackout drunk.' Alcohol hadn't been the only culprit that night, to be fair. It had been the early sixties - and 'hard' drugs had just hit the scene. And man, acid was a fuck of a thing. She had woken up on the floor of the apartment she was renting with no real idea of how she got there. Wearing a shirt she didn't own. After that one night, she had never touched the stuff again. It felt like she had been hit by a truck. (Which Veil sincerely did not recommend to anyone, having experienced that metaphor once for real.)

This felt _exactly_ like that had.

Complete with waking up on the floor.

Veil groaned and put her hand to her head - and was happy to find it was still there. It felt fuzzy, full of cotton - but she was alive. She hadn't died - and honestly she was surprised. She struggled to remember exactly what had happened. She had been talking to Alistair - and then… the castle had come to them, destroying the hotel. God only knew where she was now. Where she had been dropped.

Veil lifted her head - and wished she hadn't. Oh christ, her head hurt. She put it back down with another groan and let herself heal for a little longer.

Finally, her head gave up trying to squish out of her ears in time with her heartbeat. She felt that her glaive was still strapped to her back - at least she had her weapon.

The ground underneath her was smooth, packed dirt. It was cool to the touch - so she was in a basement of some kind. That made sense - she had fallen through the floor. But where, exactly, was she?

Veil finally managed to push herself up to her knees, and lifted her head. She opened her eyes and - she was in complete and total darkness. The kind that normally only comes when you're in a cave, or a sensory deprivation chamber.

But she _could_ see in the spirit world. It painted a strange picture of swirling energy in front of her - not really looking like much at first. She was in a long corridor - with narrow, uneven walls. They looked _bumpy_ for lack of a better word. Not like stones, but like… actually made of round objects. What the hell?

There was no air movement. No noise. But there was movement of another kind - she saw the glowing figure of a person - a ghost - walk past the intersection of her corridor with another one. So she was in a long, winding series of hallways, with ghosts, no air - no light - no noise - and _bumpy walls._

Man, she hated riddles.

Veil pushed herself up to standing, and brushed the dirt off of her hands onto her pants. She didn't have to wait long for the answer - she turned her head and almost jumped a foot in the air. A skull was staring back at her, glowing faintly in the energy of the… crypt. Not even a crypt. No. This wasn't a place where you neatly put bodies into cubbies - this was a structure made _out_ of bodies. This was a catacomb.

How _cute._

Veil sighed, making the only noise in the place, and even though she was quiet - it sounded freakishly loud.

She had watched specials on the catacombs under the Paris. Not the ones that became 'trendy' and 'hipster' to go hang out in, but the ones _underneath_ that - miles and miles of twisting, winding and endless rows and _piles_ of the dead. Where it became almost impossible to really consider that everything you were looking at had once been a living human being. The people next to you on a subway or in traffic. The sheer number of skulls somehow managed to dehumanize them. How a murder is a tragedy, but a war is a statistic.

Which came first, the chicken and the egg? The Paris catacombs, or the castle's? She debated the question as she started walking - sounding like a lumbering idiot in a world of silence. At least she wasn't creeped out by ghosts. Well, not anymore anyway. Man, the first ten years, she had spent being pretty damn jumpy.

The human dead weren't a problem to her anymore - just… sad. They made her heart break every time she ran into one. When they were freshly dead - they were stronger, knew who they were - they had conviction. But as time went on, they began to lose all of that. It was like dealing with someone with alzheimer's - most of the time they didn't remember who, or what, they used to be. Or why they were even still there. But like a candle burning slowly - they'd fade over time. Become less and less of who they were until they just flickered out into nothing.

She's spend time talking to them, if she could - to try and convince them to move on. To try and convince them to go, wherever it was they went - when they decided they were done. But a lot of times, they felt too scared to let go of the rope that held them to the world they knew. Too scared to jump into the unknown. She didn't blame them. Veil had more knowledge than most people of what the afterlife was like - and she'd still be terrified to jump over that threshold.

Luckily - or unluckily, depending on the day and her current opinion of her own life - she'd never have to find out for herself what it was like. She didn't know whether or not it was because Azrael - Death - wouldn't let her really die - or because now, she officially _couldn't_ really die. She'd never really honestly asked the question. Was it his decision every time? Meaning, that someday when he felt like it, she could actually finally cross over to the other side? Or was this permanent?

Walking in complete darkness and silence amongst rows and rows of faintly glowing skulls really got a person thinking about the cheery and uplifting bits of life.

Alistair and Azrael had always talked to her about it like her inability to stay dead was a permanent state of being. 'We are eternal.' Veil tried not to think about the fact that her life could seriously just keep going on forever - it was unnerving at best. She'd now met - or at least met the fallout from - a few people who lived for more than a few hundred years. Alistair. Vlad. Death. Octavian. Lyon. Even Adrian. And every single one of them just seemed the worse for their long lives. They all seemed miserable, violent, insane, or some combination of the three.

Well, alright, Lyon seemed 'okay.' Sad, but okay.

They all seemed like rocks in a river to her. A boulder in a rapid that seemed uncaring of the rushing water around them. Of time moving past them. But eventually the water would wear down the rock until it crumbled. Eventually they gave in and became less than what they were before.

That was going to happen to her, eventually. She could try and fight it as best she could - but she'd change. She chewed on her blue-painted lower lip, something she did when she was nervous or lost in thought.

The past seventy years of her existence she tried to live life in the present. Drive new cars, go to concerts - make friends, even if they'd die. See movies, follow current events, use modern language. It's part of the reason she died her hair blue and wore 'punky' clothing. Adrian, meanwhile, was a self-made time capsule of days long since gone. His clothing, his words, his mannerisms - all unchanged since the fifteenth century.

He was a painting of a man from another time. An ungodly beautiful, tragic, graceful fallen angel in his own right. But what was even more amazing, was that once you got past his statuesque and silent exterior, Adrian was a complex, bleeding-hearted, sympathetic creature at his core. Even if he were a time capsule - she was glad it was one that had survived the test of time so far.

It was crazy, to think that someone like him had taken notice of her. That he felt something for her. Veil knew she was pretty - she was sculpted by an angel, after all. She didn't take any pride in the fact that she was 'hot.' She was as fake as if a plastic surgeon had done the deed. If Adrian had just been interested in screwing her - she'd get that. She'd understand that no problem. And honestly, 'friends with benefits' with a guy like that? Who'd say no?

But it seemed like he… really cared about her. Maybe it was because he, too, was this half-breed monster that had no business existing. Just like her. Maybe it was because she made him smile and laugh, something the dhampir did remarkably little of.

Veil found herself smiling at the thought of him - and hoped he was alright. Her heart twinged at the thought of him lying somewhere, hurt - and she realized with a sudden slap in the face… she was in love with him. "Way to go, you fucking moron," she mumbled aloud to herself in the silence. _You fell in love with the son of Dracula. You came here to kill his dad. That's not going to get awkward,_ she finished silently. The walls probably had ears - and the last thing she needed was the castle knowing she had fallen head over heels for the dhampir.

Veil turned as a flash of movement in the spirit world caught her eye - another ghost. It was walking oddly - lurching, his head rolling back and forth on his neck like a sleepwalker. "Uh, hello! Excuse me-" she called to it. It was the figure of a man. He paused, the head turning to look at her. "Hi, I'm lost - can you help me?" she said, trying to sound as friendly as she could, with a bladed glaive strapped to her back.

The ghost moved to face her - and she heard something shuffle on the dirt.

Wait.

Ghosts don't shuffle.

It let out a low moan - and began lurching towards her.

Nope. Not a ghost.

 _Zombie._

Veil scrambled to take the glaive off of her back. It was awfully tight quarters for her to be using a staff with a knife strapped to one side - but it'd have to do. It was only one zombie. No problem.

Veil's eyes widened as the zombie lurching towards her was joined by… many, many more. The corridor behind them was emptying out into hers - and she lost count as their energy blurred together in her view of the spirit world.

"Well, _shit."_

* * *

Adrian awoke to the sound of dripping water.

No, more specifically, he awoke to the _sensation_ of dripping water. Tapping on his cheek, over and over again. It would have been enough to awake a corpse, the feeling was so irritating. He swiped his hand along his face, wiping away the cold liquid, and sat up with a small grunt.

He was sore - the fall as the hotel had been devoured by the castle had been a long one. At some point, he had struck his head and blacked out. All for the better, most likely - a long fall like that was often made worse by struggling to stop it. A limp body often times suffered less damage.

He looked around himself, his eyes adjusting quickly to the relatively low light of wherever it was he had landed. Torches burned in sconces hammered into the rock around him, covered with calcite and other mineral growth that looked like it could be ooze, so fluid its growth had been. He was on a raw rock floor - like that of a cave. That would explain the dripping. Stalactites and stalagmites surrounded him, and he was keenly grateful that he had not landed upon one of them.

Turning his head, he saw the rocks slowly give way into a lower area - that was flat, glassy and black. Perfectly still water. Ah. The lakes.

He had been here a few times before, in his repetitive quest to stop his father. As a child he had no reason to delve so deep into the depths of the castle's structure. Indeed, it was unsafe for a youth, even the son of Dracula, to explore such places.

He pushed himself up to standing, and checked himself over. Good, he had his sword, his supplies -

A pained groan from near him interrupted his train of thought.

Adrian turned quickly, walking towards the voice - someone else had fallen with him, it seemed. The man was on his side, still crumpled from how he had landed. He was only now stirring and returning to consciousness.

Adrian knelt on one knee to gently turn the man onto his back. The history professor - Richard. The mortal was blinking his eyes, wiping at his face, trying to regain awareness of what had happened.

The man finally noticed Adrian's presence, and had a momentary flinch of panic before recognizing him. And even still, the man's face didn't calm down - instead flushed scarlet as he struggled to sit up.

Adrian helped him with a hand on his back. "I-I-" Richard stammered, and Adrian was confused for a moment before he remembered why. Ah yes. Veil had alluded to the fact that the man was a little 'struck' by the dhampir's presence.

Adrian stood, and gave the man some space to sort himself out. "Are you hurt?" he asked the man.

"I… I mean, I'm sore - but, no. I don't think anything is broken." Richard looked about himself curiously, squinting - his glasses had fallen off his face in the plummet. He patted the ground around him, and found them - lifting them up to the dim light. He wiped at them, and found them apparently serviceable, if not perfect. He put them on his face, took them off again to straighten a wire, then put them back on. "Where… are we? What happened?"

"It seems that my father grew impatient, and sent the castle to us." Adrian looked about curiously, and saw a path carved into the rock leading away from the lake. At least they had not landed in the water, either - it seems a lot of luck was in play to keep them relatively safe in their fall.

Adrian did not believe in luck.

Instantly he was incredulous of their circumstances - and felt it was very much by design that they had fallen as they had, split up in the manner that they had been. He wondered after the others - and hoped they had met a similarly kind fate.

His thoughts lingered longer on Veil than the others, and he chided himself for his foolishness. Of all of them, she was the one he should be the least concerned over. And yet, his errant heart was want to do as it pleased. He looked back down at the history professor - Veil's oldest friend, and companion - as the middle-aged man shuffled up to his feet, brushing himself off.

"This… this is the castle," Richard said, full of dread. "Oh god… Oh, mother of god," he rubbed a hand back over his short greying hair, his eyes wide. "I'm going to die here."

"If I have any say in the matter, you will return alive," Adrian said quietly - doing a poor job of consoling the man. Adrian was not one to issue false hopes and platitudes. So he only gave him the truth as he could. The look on the professor's face confirmed how little solace his words had given him. Adrian turned and began to walk down the path into the darkness, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Stay close to me and do not wander off."

They passed through the bluish lit corridors of the cave for many minutes in absolute silence, save the professor's shoes crunching the occasional rock or piece of gravel. He had taken out a notebook and a pencil, and was furiously writing as he observed their surroundings.

"Is the castle normally so… empty?"

"The hordes are busying themselves elsewhere," Adrian responded. He had not meant it to sound curt or unkind, but such was his way, it seemed.

"Veil and the others…"

"Fell similarly. And there is no telling where they found themselves. The castle is illogical - chaotic. It can arrange and rearrange itself at will. Do not think of it as a linear passage."

"So that's true… that's why the stories are never the same," Richard said with a small 'huh' and kept writing. "So even though they were a few feet away from us when they fell, they could have wound up anywhere. Including 'above ground.'" It was a statement, not a question, so Adrian did not provide any more information.

A few more minutes passed into silence before the professor spoke again. "You and Veil, then?"

"So it seems." Came Adrian's simple response.

More minutes passed, without Richard prying for more. If he had thought that Adrian would supply more conversation unbidden, he did not know the stories about him well enough, it seemed.

"Do you love her?"

"I am not sure," was his honest response. "But I believe so."

"How... don't you know?"

"I have never been in love before," Adrian confessed, although it was no great secret.

"You're not worried about Asmodeus?"

"Of course I am," Adrian responded, still not turning to look at the professor. He was keeping his eyes trained on their surroundings. Yes, the army may be gone - but danger was still present. They could be ambushed at any time, and the mortal man behind him was useless in a fight. He would have to protect them both, should a challenger appear. "But there is little to be done about it."

"What do you mean?"

"My feelings for Veil are what they are. My intentions are clear. Veil has made her choice. If Asmodeus seeks to confront us, we will deal with it then." It was a perfectly rational, emotionless approach to a very emotional problem.

Yes, Adrian was concerned about Asmodeus reappearance into Veil's world - particularly after learning the truth of their prior relationship. 'Alistair' could, at any time, challenge him to a duel over Veil's affections, as was often done in days gone by - days that he and Alistair were far more familiar with, than not. Adrian was unsure as to how he would fare in a battle against a fallen archangel, but he could not guess it would go terribly well in his favor.

But he would fight, if it came to that. He would lay down his life, if need be - to protect Veil's freedom. Because he saw now that he did, indeed, love her. What she saw in him, this broken, torn, lifeless monster - he would never know. What was he, if nothing but an empty shell of a man? A creature devoid of all purpose but one - to murder his own father. Again, and again, and again… to protect a world in which he had no home.

Adrian was handsome, he knew that much. But Veil's interest in him seemed to go far deeper than physical affection.

She, who suffered and laughed and loved and felt all things so _intensely_ , had taken him into her arms, and offered to share that life. To share it with a man who was no better than a corpse - to let him feed from that fire that burned in her. The righteousness, the humor, the passion and the kindness. She was able to run with her first impulses, her first 'gut response' to a problem, and stick it out. He was ever the one to debate, to rationalize, to reason. To debate the greater path.

Trevor had been so similar in nature - so willing to go with his 'gut' and not with his mind. Adrian had ever been envious of his mortal friend, the hunter of legend - who was able to live so freely, so wildly. Adrian had thought it had been a product of his shortened days, of his mortality. And yet, here he found that same fire, blazing away in a woman who had eternity spread out in front of her.

How long would it take that flame to die? For that pyre to turn to coals, as it had in him, and so many others? Adrian could not stomach the thought of her becoming so cold, so lifeless. He would protect that flame from the winds of time for as long as he could. With his own body if he must.

"You _do_ love her, don't you..?" the professor asked quietly.

Adrian was silent for a long time before responding. "Yes." It was more of a confirmation to himself, than perhaps Richard.

"I don't blame you. I did too, once, you know. When I was younger."

"Tell me of your history together," Adrian asked - out of honest curiosity. Any window into her world and her past, he would gladly peer through. He knew Veil's account - but was eager to hear it from his point of view.

"She saved my life… My family and I were abducted by a cult. A bunch of vicious, vile people in service to the fallen angel Botis. They killed my father, my sister, my mother - all in front of my face. But Veil was hunting them, and she found us before they got to me… She pulled me out of that blood-soaked nightmare when I was only eight or nine. All I can remember is her hugging me, telling me everything was going to be okay. But she was crying, and I didn't understand why at the time. It was because she was crying for _me._ Because of what she knew my life was going to be like."

"You were an orphan."

"Yes. But she was always there - just off in the distance, watching over me. I'd see her on the edge of the schoolyard, or in the back of the auditorium when I graduated high school. Somebody paid for my undergraduate degree and every degree after that - some 'mysterious donor' who wanted to remain anonymous. I knew who it was. But what happened to my family… it never really left me. I started studying the history of the occult - of esotericism and trying to hunt down anyone like those monsters that had murdered my family. I found some - almost under my nose in Chicago where I was living at the time. I decided I had to do something about it, and I… _stupidly_ got myself a gun, and went to go stop them."

Adrian remained silent, letting the man tell his tale.

"I was maybe twenty three at the time? I had just started my masters degree, which was rolled into my doctorate. I had a shotgun, a handgun, and a knife. I went to go… I don't even know what I was planning to do. Just _stop_ them. I had never killed anyone before - and I don't even think I knew what I was going to do when I found them." Richard folded up the notebook he had been using and tucked it into his inside coat pocket, giving up on the records for the time being. "I made it ten steps into their building until they caught me. I was _useless._ I don't even think I fired a single round before I was on the ground." Richard sighed heavily, remembering the embarrassment and hopelessness of his situation. "I thought I was going to die. And then she saved me. _Again._ You can imagine the sarcasm."

Adrian smiled faintly, although Richard could not see it, as he was walking behind the dhampir. Yes, he could imagine what Veil would have said, upon rescuing the same man twice.

"She laid them all out like they were paper dolls. After that, she taught me that I could fight them - just in a different kind of way. We became a team. She began to rely on my ability to hunt the secret societies out - and I relied on her to deal with them. How couldn't I fall in love with her?" A long moment of silence followed, as Richard thought about his next words. "She turned me down. Said no. Not because she didn't think she _couldn't_ love me back - but because she _shouldn't._ That one of us would get hurt, what with the… age gap only getting wider. I didn't blame her. It hurt. God, it hurt. I spent years thinking I was doomed, that I'd never love another person again. But such is the way of the heart. Love found me unprepared, and I met my wife in my doctorate program. She and I have a family. A beautiful little baby girl. I'm terrified I won't ever see them again."

"I know," Adrian responded. He had been there for Richard's screaming match with Veil, on the foot of the church steps.

"I'm sorry for what I said," Richard said quietly. "I'm just… I'm scared."

"She knows that. She only wishes for your forgiveness."

Richard let out a long, wavering breath. "She hates herself, for what she is. Always has. Of course she didn't tell me she was Alistair's 'wife.' She probably thought I'd be disgusted." After a long pause, and another wavering sigh, the professor summed everything up quite nicely. "What a mess."

* * *

" _Goddamn cocksucking son of a bitch!"_

Veil shouted that as she slammed a thick, wooden door shut. She pulled a wooden beam over into the cast iron brackets to lock it, securing it into place. She had slammed the door into the face of the zombie _hoard_ that had been chasing her.

"Holy shit!" she swore at the door again, listening to the hands scrabbling and pawing at the closed door. "That's right, _motherfuckers!"_ she shouted, feeling her heart still pounding in her ears. She was still ripping with adrenaline, and she kicked the door a few times. Her glaive was covered in the weird icky bits left over from the fight.

Every time she'd taken one out, two more seemed to take its place. She had been chased through the catacombs for _hours_ by the gigantic mass of wriggling bodies. Thank god she could walk through walls - and the few dead ends that she had run into, she could escape. A few times they had gotten close - getting a hand on her, trying to sink teeth into her flesh.

Veil shuddered, and kicked the door one final time for good measure. Hours of running. _Hours_ of searching for an exit. Of fighting zombies. In _total darkness._ Her coat was ripped up, she was dirty - but she was alright, if out of breath. They hadn't caught her. Thank god she could see more or less where she was with the glow of the spirit realm - but it was still surreal, like watching the whole thing through a heat vision camera.

But now she was standing somewhere with light - flickering candles in sconces. She could see the actual walls, granite stones carved and polished to a high sheen. Something about this place felt familiar. Like a _church._

"I thought perhaps it was you I heard," spoke a voice from behind her.

Whirling, she only just barely managed to raise her glaive in time to block the impact of a golden talon careening towards her head. Her dark eyes met blue ones - so pale they might have been white, set into a face that was as perfect and cold as the marble statues he owned.

Yup… definitely a church.

Complete with Lyon, the priest.

* * *

Stairs. Many hundreds of stairs.

"This is misery," Gabriel pointed out to Conrad who walked ahead of him, his own steps heavy.

"Tell me somethin' I don't know," the Irishman quipped back, sounding out of breath. The two of them had to stop several times in their long trek upwards from where they had landed in the chaos. Gabriel had sprained his wrist, and Conrad had a bad gash on his head that had finally stopped bleeding. The fall had done a number on them both - but they were trained to survive. Trained to fight. Trained to not stop, not until they were dead.

Where they had landed, and where they were going, was hard to say. This was, most definitely, the castle. They had battled winged monsters at the foot of the stairs, grey-skinned and dangerous toothed creatures who burned easily at Gabriel's fire and screamed in agony when Conrad's bullets had pierced their flesh.

It was almost cathartic - almost comforting, to kill the monsters they had been bred to fight. This was simple, without the questions of loyalty and the shades of grey that existed in the likes of Veil, Adrian and even to a certain extent, Asmodeus. They had been trained to think that all matters were clear-cut. You were either on the side of the living and the light, or you were not.

To find so many examples of those that existed outside of those simple rules were troubling to Gabriel. Less so to his friend, Conrad - who seemed much quicker to draw new lines and stick to them.

The two of them had agreed that they had become fond of Veil, the blue-haired girl with such a troubling, agonizing past. Somehow she was more human - if in heart, than physical form - than Alucard. Alucard, who could claim a half-human parentage, seemed far more cast of metal than flesh.

And Asmodeus… Gabriel found him the most troubling. To be one of the original demons - cast from the heavens for his lack of faith and arrogance, and yet to stand to fight alongside humanity for the right for it to continue? How could they call such a monster their ally? And yet, how could they cast it away?

But for now, their lives were simple. Stairs, and monsters. Gabriel could be at peace with that for some time.

* * *

Lyon smashed into a granite column, slumping to the floor with bits of stone raining down around him. Veil had sent him hurtling through the air with a good shot - and he hadn't dodged it in time.

"Not so much fun when it's a fair fight, is it?!" she taunted, twirling her glaive around herself more for show than anything else. She was even more out of breath now, after running around escaping zombies - but she was glad to finally face Lyon in one-on-one combat.

The vampire had gotten a few good hits in - and she was still healing a good sized gash in her side. But she wasn't doing too poorly for herself, either. Now that she knew how vampires fought - it was a lot easier to predict how they were going to move

"I do not-" Lyon said as he pushed himself up from the ground with a small grunt. "-find such things enjoyable, regardless." He hissed in pain and yanked a piece of a wooden pew out of his side, chucking it towards the wall. "Although, if I had to rank them on such a scale, then… yes. I am enjoying seeing what you are capable of, my lady. And it is formidable."

"'My Lady,'" she said with a snicker. "That's cute." Veil swiped at him with her blade after reappearing through thin air - and he just barely managed to dodge. Her blade dug into the stone pillar with a hard _chunk_.

Veil yanked her glaive out of the pillar just before the priest's golden claws raked the air where she had just been standing.

Veil swiped, and threw her soul through him before he could react - and with the hard impact as her body rushed to follow it, she managed to drive the blade of her glaive _through_ his chest, just below his solar plexus. She pushed him back against another granite column. The blade dug into the stone.

This new weapon of hers was amazing. It was light, insanely fast for its size - and the blade was like a razor, cutting through anything and everything like paper. She loved it - and she was… actually grateful to Death for having had it made for her. It was the first time in her life she had ever fought with a 'real' forged weapon of any quality.

Lyon's gold gauntlets were wrapped around the staff, trying to keep it from digging further into him - or dragging through his body to cause further damage. He let out a pained growl, his fangs bared, ending in a hiss.

She yanked the glaive from his chest, and took a step back - watching as he slumped against the ground, leaving a red smear of blood against the stone behind him. His hands clutched the wound in his chest, his golden claws fading and disappearing from his hands. He was… giving up. She could kill him now - easily. She should. She _really_ should. "Tell me why I shouldn't lop your head off right now."

Lyon winced, hissed in pain. "Why is it even in debate? You did not hesitate over Octavian."

Veil laughed. "That asshole _really_ deserved it. Jury's still out on you."

"How so?"

"You handed me and Adrian to that fuckface. But you did it, as far as I can tell, to try and spare Gabe and Conrad."

Lyon shifted, and she placed the edge of the sharp blade against his throat - threatening to slice it open if he even twitched wrong. He stilled his movements, his ice blue eyes watching her through a haze of pain.

"I don't know why," she continued. "But you did. And I'm not someone who typecasts people because of what they are. We're here to stop the mass murder and the genocide of millions of people. Now, if you keep attacking me? If you get in our way again? _Then_ I have to put you down."

"I serve the Master of this castle," Lyon said quietly, resigning himself to his fate. "And I always will."

"You mean Dracula?"

"He means-" a deep voice said from behind her, the baritone rumbling through the echoing hall like thunder. " _Precisely_ what he said."

* * *

Adrian and Richard had finally made their way up from the cave, and into one of the many long, winding great halls and connecting corridors of the massive structure. This one appeared to be the portrait gallery - dozens of painted images of bygone lords and ladies hung in various conditions on black marble walls.

It seemed the staring eyes and gaunt faces were unnerving his less-than-stalwart companion, whose heart had picked up in tempo since they had set foot upstairs. Adrian preferred it here - to the dimly lit, damp and unpredictably winding caverns.

"Well, well… What do we have _here?_ " a female voice crooned from up ahead. As it spoke, she shimmered into appearance - and Adrian narrowed his eyes. Oh, fantastic. "Hello cousin," the woman said, twirling a long strand of emerald hair around her finger.

"Elizabeth," Adrian 'greeted' back, with no amount of friendliness or joviality.

"It is so _wonderful_ to see you again, after all these years!" she beamed, smiling. Adrian almost believed it. Elizabeth was less dour than many of the other residents of the castle - but no less sadistic. No less cruel. No less egotistical. Indeed, her insistence that she was Vlad Dracula's 'niece' was entirely a conceit. Dracula allowed it, as it was amusing to the elder vampire.

Adrian found it irritating at best.

"Your manners, dear cousin! How they have suffered over the years. Aren't you you going to introduce me to your charming friend?" Elizabeth cooed, walking towards them. Her long dress sweeping the carpet as she walked.

As she moved, he drew his sword and raised it, pointing the end of the blade towards her. "Keep your distance."

Elizabeth pulled up short, and raised her hands, chuckling. "Oh, my. Very well. Have it your way! Perhaps I will go introduce myself to your _other_ friends - the two priests. Or your new lady! I do so much _love_ her choice in haircolor," Elizabeth said with a wink.

"You will leave them be." Adrian narrowed his eyes - and made no other movement but that. He would not tolerate threats. Especially from someone like her.

"As much of a conversationalist as ever, I see." Elizabeth put her hands on her hips, pouting. "And here, I came to help you! I wanted to tell you something _very important."_

Adrian sighed, very much not wanting to play childish games.

"I'm not the only one who wanted to meet your darling love." Elizabeth smiled and pursed her lips. "You might want to step quickly! I do think Uncle is just a _little_ cross with you."

* * *

He needed no introduction.

Long black hair, greying at the temples, flowed down around his chiseled features and shoulders in tendrils - in a style that looked remarkably familiar to her. What was also remarkably familiar was the same stern, stoic expression - although the face on which it was worn were much harder than that of Adrian's.

Black and crimson in elegant, layered fabric echoed an era long since gone. A long cape pooled around his feet in dark scarlets and reds, looking very much like a puddle of blood around his feet. She was certain the look was on purpose.

It was the crimson eyes that made her the most nervous - ones that glinted like a wolf, and were no less hungry. No less predatory.

Veil took another step back, her glaive raised defensively - although the vampire had made no movement towards her. She swallowed thickly in her throat. This was bad. _Very_ bad. She wasn't ready to do this - and certainly wasn't ready to do it alone.

Lyon was standing now - his wound having healed itself. Great. Even better. Even if he was still hurt - there were now _two_ vampires she had to worry about.

There was nowhere she could run. Nowhere she could hide.

No way she could _win._

Accepting her fate, she sighed, and lowered her glaive. She still kept her grip on it - just in case. But there was no point in fighting. He'd mop the floor with her.

"Good," Vlad said, his deep voice carrying easily through the granite sanctuary of the church. "You are not a fool."

"Thanks, I… guess," she answered incredulously.

He stepped towards her then, and she felt fear tighten all the muscles in her body at once. He smirked derisively at her response.

Christ - she could really see the resemblance between Vlad and Adrian. The stoic, hard-cut expression was the same, even if Vlad somehow also looked less 'forlorn' and more just… _pissed_. She expected that was his default expression.

"If you wanted me maimed or dead, I would be by now," Veil said as Vlad took another measured step towards her - his boot making little noise against the stone floor. "So what _do_ you want?" She had a hard time keeping still and not backing away - but she was going to hold her ground, goddamnit.

"To give you one chance to join me, without pain or bloodshed."

Veil sighed and lowered her head, running a hand through her blue hair. "That's thoughtful, but you know what my answer is going to be."

"I do."

"Then why ask it at all?"

Vlad sneered - a vicious upturn to his lips. He was enjoying what he was about to say. "So that while you are suffering - you may be allowed to ponder _why."_

Veil had no time to react - no time to move, as something snapped around her neck. She gagged and coughed, her hands flying to whatever had wound its way around her - her glaive clattering to the ground. Whatever it was yanked her downwards - and she expected the ground to meet her. But twice in one day, the ground seemed to cease to exist out from under her - and she fell _past_ it, and into the darkness.

* * *

" _Where are they?!"_ Adrian hissed through his teeth into Elizabeth's frightened face. She was pinned to the wall, his dagger at her throat. He could kill her now - easily, and quickly. Without much effort. He almost did not know his own strength - his own speed.

Adrian had nearly killed her without intending to do so.

It seems starvation had a greater cost on him than he had originally believed. With Veil's blood pumping through his veins, he felt a power there that he had not known in centuries. Perhaps - ever.

"Is it _true?"_ Elizabeth gasped. "It is, isn't it! I did not believe Uncle when he said it - but I see it now. You have broken your fast, haven't you?"

"Tell me where they are - and speak of nothing else," Adrian warned darkly, his eyes narrowing.

"Ooh, I cannot wait to meet her, she who convinced you to- ah!" Elizabeth broke off in a squeak as he dug his dagger into the skin of her neck, making clear his threat was not a bluff that she should be challenging. "Alright, cousin - alright," she conceded, raising her hands. "I will speak plainly."

Adrian was silent, simply glaring a hole into her.

"The church. She was sent to the catacombs, and they are now in the church with Lyon."

Adrian threw her aside like so much chaff, and sheathed his dagger. "Begone," he said simply - and was not to be argued with. Elizabeth knew that tone of voice, as he shared it with his father - and she shimmered, and disappeared.

Richard peeked out from behind the vase he had been trying to cower behind during the confrontation. "Is it safe..?" the professor asked.

"As ever it will be," Adrian responded and turned, walking with hastened steps. "Come. I fear what Father has done."

* * *

Veil awoke on the floor - _again._

Son of a bitch, people.

She pushed herself up from the stone surface enough to get one hand free, and felt something heavy around her neck. She lifted her hand and felt - something - clasped around her. It was cold to the touch. Metal. It felt heavy, as if something else was attached to it. Her hand found a chain, a chain that ran from whatever was attached to her neck.

A collar?

She pushed herself up to her knees, and lifted her head, finally able to look around. She didn't know what she was expecting - but where she _was,_ was not it. It looked like… an art gallery? Statues dotted the walls, paintings hung on the white and black marble walls. Windows, arching high up towards the ceiling, were decorated with thick, velvety emerald green curtains.

The chain that attached to the metal collar around her neck, ran in uneven, snaking curves across the floor around around behind her. When she turned her head - the chain ran up and into the hands of a massive statue, clasped in its fist. The statue was that of Anubis, the Egyptian god of the dead, who loomed over her in all his carved glory - some twelve feet all or more.

Veil tried to phase out into the spirit realm on a longshot - a veritable hail mary. But sure enough, she couldn't. The collar clasped around her neck kept her stuck where she was. " _Shit,"_ she swore. It was enchanted the same way the shackles had been, in Octavian's chamber.

"We have much to discuss, you and I…"

She snapped her attention around, and saw a figure - cut black against the pale moonlight of the window. Vlad Dracula.

"Oh, do tell," she quipped sarcastically as she wrapped her hands around the collar around her neck and yanked - and screamed in pain as something akin to electricity ran through her body. She convulsed, and collapsed back down onto her face with a painful groan as the spasmodic, twitching and horrible feeling left her body. "Son of a _bitch!"_ she swore again, pounding her fist into the stone floor.

"I would recommend not doing that twice," Vlad said, amused - turning his head just barely to look at her.

"Noted," Veil groaned as she pushed herself back up onto her knees - _again._ "I get it. I'm your prisoner. The statue is a nice touch, by the way."

"Why thank you," the vampire dryly observed as he turned to face her. He approached, his boots making quiet clicks against the stone floor.

Veil felt her jaw twitch - felt the overwhelming urge to run. But she was trapped. Chained to the statue by the collar around her neck - an insult whose symbolism wasn't lost on her. _Slave,_ is what it screamed. _Powerless. Hopeless. Trapped._

"Why do this?" she said as she lifted the chain from the floor before dropping it again.

"I cannot kill you," he pointed out with an idle, dismissive shrug. "So I have to contain you."

"Fine. Then why're you here? Why the personal touch?"

"To meet you in person. To see the woman that my son professes that he now _loves._ "

"Wait-" she blinked. "Hold on, what?!"

"Hrmn," the vampire made a thoughtful noise in his throat as he looked away from her - his crimson eyes finding the middle distance, not focusing on anything but his thoughts. "Interesting that of all of the traits he could inherit from me, that is one that found its mark." Eyes the color of blood found hers again. "He said those words as truth, when he spoke to your ' _friend,'_ the mortal scholar, in the caves."

"Richard's alive," Veil breathed a sigh of relief. Her optimism was quickly beat to death by realism. "Wait. Why is he alive?"

Vlad only sneered again - a cruel twist to pale lips.

"A bargaining chip? Fine." Veil pushed herself up to standing, brushing herself off. She wouldn't _kneel_ in front of anyone - especially not a homicidal maniac. "What's the game? I don't even know who you're playing, let alone what part you think I play."

"Your purpose in coming here is to kill me, is it not?"

Veil tilted her head, watching him. He was a man of words - careful words. A verbal battle, where every syllable counted. Veil was more prone to sling words wildly. Okay, vampire. Fine. Let's do it your way. "My purpose in coming here, is to stop the genocide."

Another thoughtful noise left his throat as he walked around the perimeter of the chain that bound her to the closed fist of the statue. As if she actually posed some kind of threat. He began to pace back and forth across its arc.

"You… _You_ are the one who my son has become infatuated with? With whom he has broken his fast?"

"None of your business," Veil responded as she crossed her arms over her chest, defiantly.

"Ah, but isn't it?" Vlad folded his hands behind his back as he paced. "You, who I did not know existed despite my long… _friendship_ with Death. You, who have come to 'stop the genocide.' You, who have brought a fallen archangel unto my doorstep."

"Oh… I get it. This is about Asmodeus, isn't it?" Veil walked over to the base of the statue and leaned up against it. She hated the collar around her neck - it rubbed her _such_ the wrong way. But ranting and raving about it wasn't going to do her any good.

"He comes to claim my throne," the vampire king replied. Finally, he stopped moving around the edge of the reach of her chain, and turned to face him. "You will help me stop him."

Veil watched him, her head tilted slightly to the side. What he said made sense - well, the first part anyway. Could she picture Alistair trying to take over the castle that Dracula commanded? Absolutely. A kingdom of his own - filled with creatures that would love him? Ones that wouldn't judge him so harshly for being a monster? Yeah. It made a painful amount of sense.

But the other statement - the second one… "And why would I help you? One of you is guilty of murdering thousands of people, and on his way to mass genocide. The other one, isn't."

"And if I agreed to withdraw my armies?"

"How could I trust you?" Veil tried to look as casual as she could, leaning up against the base of the statue. "I agree to help, we send Alistair back to hell - you send your armies right back out."

Vlad began to walk towards her, slowly - knowing she couldn't run. Veil kept her casual pose, trying to look as dismissive of him as possible. Which was hard, considering who and what he was. She could see why the legends of him were so intense - and they weren't far off the mark.

As he reached her, he stretched out his hand towards her face - his pointed nails looking like claws. She flinched and straightened up as he successfully called her bluff. His hand wrapped around the metal collar that hung around her neck - loose enough to hang around her, but not loose enough to pull off over her head.

He yanked her towards him, and she pulled in a sharp breath through her nose but refused to do anything other than glare up at him. He smiled at her defiance. "When one cannot die, fear must be hard to come by."

"That's a load of bull. I die just fine, and it hurts. I try not to do it as much as I can help it." She tried to yank her head backwards away from him, but he wasn't allowing her to budge.

"There is a fire to you, little one." His crimson eyes were burning holes through her - it felt like he could see _through_ her. And she hated it. "I begin to see Adrian's interest in you. Yet," he let her go abruptly, and she staggered back into the base of the statue. "I struggle to fathom that he has chosen - after all these long years, to feed on blood once more. He is not a creature of fickle constitution."

"Maybe he wouldn't be so fucking miserable about what he is, if you weren't such a _massive douchebag._ Maybe he wouldn't hate being a half vampire, if he didn't have _you_ for a fucking father!"

The strike came before she even registered that it had happened - he had backhanded her hard enough to knock her to the ground and rattle her head in its cage. Veil let out a laugh through the pain. "Gee, I think I found a sensitive subject. Christ," she pushed herself back up, using the base of the statue for support. She rubbed her jaw as she straightened up. "Note to self, avoid being pimp-slapped by a vampire."

"I will make this simple for you." His hand was suddenly in her hair, yanking her head backwards to pull her off balance and crane her head to look up at him. His face was dark, cruel, and his words matched his features. "Either you aid me in removing the archangel from my doorstep - or I will murder your friend and the two priests. I will force you to watch as I end the pathetic life of my own son - _and_ _only then_ will I deliver you to Asmodeus in exchange for his willing departure from my home!" He threw her forward into the base of the statue as he took a single step back. "I will give you some time to _think it over._ "

With a roar of fire - a jet that swirled up towards the ceiling in a column.

And with that, she was left alone with his ultimatum.


	16. Chapter 16

Hours.

She had been sitting here for _hours._

With absolutely nothing to do.

But sit.

And think.

And pace.

And think.

And pace some more.

And eventually get to the point where she decided to climb the statue. What the hell else was she going to do? Hang herself with the chain for fun?

It took a few attempts to scramble up to the bent arm of the massive sculpture of Anubis. She wasn't an acrobat, and it took her a few tries to swing her legs up high enough that she made it. The hand at its side held the chain, but the other held a large spear with the end touching the base - so it gave her something to sit on.

So she laid on the forearm of the statue, her feet up on the bicep, and began to whistle some dumb tune while she thought.

Vlad had issued her an ultimatum. Help him destroy Alistair, or he would kill Richard, Adrian, Gabriel and Conrad, and then hand her over to the archangel _anyway._

Either way, she was a slave. Either to Vlad, or to Asmodeus. There was a chance that the archangel would stay true to his word - and set her free, once Vlad handed her chain to him. But she doubted it. Given the opportunity to have her truly at his mercy again, why wouldn't he?

All she wanted was to yank on the collar again and try and pull it over her head - but judging by what happened the _last_ time, she decided against it. Being electrocuted wasn't on her top ten list of things to do with her day.

Veil shut her eyes, and let herself doze. The boredom was making her tired, her mind eager to do anything but think about the 'lose/lose' situation that she had been put into. Her only hope was that Adrian would come and save her. But there was no telling where he was - or how long it'd take him to find her.

Not to mention Alistair was here, also - roaming the halls doing God-knows-what.

A voice woke her from her sleep. "Aren't you afraid you'll fall and hurt yourself?" A chuckle followed. "I suppose you aren't, actually. Silly question, sorry."

The voice was one she knew well - although she hadn't heard it in the waking world in… well, honestly, ever. Veil sat up suddenly, sitting on the arm like she would the branch of a tree, one leg on either side. She had to confirm that she was alive, and awake - and not floating in some endless, impossibly still and dark liquid. That she wasn't at the gates of death. That was, after all, the only time she had ever heard that voice.

Turning her head, she saw a figure standing nearby, his hands shoved in the pockets of a dark brown peacoat. She knew his face - but she had only met him once. And she hadn't been alive at the time. "Azrael..?"

The archangel smiled faintly, his features warm - with the kind of happiness you find between two long-separated friends at a family funeral. Forlorn and tragic, but still happiness. Veil jumped down from the arm of the statue to the base, then from the base to the floor.

Azrael pulled his hands from his pockets, but didn't seem to know what to do with them. He seemed… nervous. Fidgety.

The man - archangel, she reminded herself - hadn't been what she expected to see the day she died for the first time. Curly blond hair, warm european features, and hands stained with ink and smudges of his incessant writing. The reason behind the ink was simple - his job was to record the names of every death - every soul - that passed through the gates. Bright blue eyes made him look even more germanic. He wasn't terribly tall, or terribly built - just… a man. A man wearing a multicolored scarf and a plain dark blue button-down shirt. Handsome, interesting, but not heart-stoppingly so. You'd pass him on the street and never think anything of it. He should be in a coffee shop, drinking a latte and reading an old book, not here, in Dracula's castle. By the looks of things, he had no business being the aspect of Death.

But if there was one thing she'd learned - books and their covers rarely matched.

"Why're you here?" she asked curiously, not knowing what to make of his arrival. The floating spectre certainly fit the mood of the castle far more than this quirky archangel. They were two parts of the same whole - two parts that represented the immense force known as 'death.' Facets of the same jewel. She wondered if they could exist in the same place at the same time, or if Azrael's being here meant that the skeleton 'Death' was not.

"I had to come to see you," he admitted, and looked a little… sheepish. "Especially with what is about to happen."

"What's about to happen..?" she asked, dread welling up in her.

"I cannot say. I know, I know-" he preempted her inevitable angry comment, and raised his hands as if to say he meant no harm. "That isn't fair. Why say anything at all if I can't provide details. But I cannot tell you - and I apologize deeply for that. But with Asmodeus here, and all that is happening, I felt the need to talk to you somewhere _outside_ our normal interactions. They are far too brief to have any real meaningful conversation."

Veil sighed, and shook her head, running a hand through her hair. They stood in silence for a moment before she realized that he was waiting for her to agree to talk to him. Like she had anything _better_ to do. "Fine. So… yeah, hi. Nice to see you, I guess."

"I have come to ask, if you might ever forgive me for what I have done."

Veil blinked, surprised - and looked at him curiously, not understanding exactly what he was asking her for.

Azrael stepped towards her with a heavy sigh. "My kind cannot procreate. We cannot form another life from nothingness, like humans can. No more angels will ever exist. We are what we are, and ever will be. But any other creation of God, can reproduce. In my terrible hubris, I wanted to… create something. All I do is watch the world _die._ Watch everything and everyone _die._ If I could take that away from something - anything - just once…" He shut his eyes for a moment in grief. "I do not regret what I have made in you, but the pain that I have caused you… and that I will continue to cause you, is not fair to you, who have had no say in any of this."

Veil remained silent, unable to respond - unable to form words. He opened his crisp blue eyes and looked at her, pained and curious. Hopeful. "I come to you in this form, to ask your forgiveness, as it was this form that made you." He looked off for a second. "And the spectre of Death is not… as… kindly spoken."

That made Veil laugh, and his face split into a smile. Veil walked up to him, hating the scrape of the metal chain on the floor that ran to her collar. The sound of it upset him as well, his features creasing as if it brought him physical pain. She could tell it broke his heart to see her like this.

The archangel of death, her 'father' - was asking her forgiveness for bringing her into existence.

Veil followed her instincts. It's what she did, after all. Followed her heart, and did what she felt was right without any great debate. Too much thinking through a situation only got in the way of living, after all.

So she hugged him.

Azrael seemed to not know what to do for a moment, before letting out a small choked noise, and wrapping his arms around her tightly, hugging him to her like she was a long-lost relative at an airport terminal. It was more or less the case. She felt his shoulders relax, as if he had been tense in waiting to hear her response.

"I forgive you," she said to him quietly. "... Dad."

"That sounds so strange, and so… wonderful, at the same time," he admitted, chuckling.

"Tell me about it."

He finally broke the embrace, smiling down at her, and he let his hands rest on her shoulders. "I am so proud of you… and everything you've become. I have to go - my 'other half' is needed." He took a step back away from her. "Give 'em hell, kiddo," he finished with a grin.

Veil only smirked back at him, as he disappeared in a swirl of black mist that dissipated along the floor and was gone.

* * *

It seemed as though the castle were no longer so utterly vacant. For better or worse, Gabriel observed to himself as they walked through the halls. Conrad was in the lead, as he ever was - the muscle and the guns to their team of two.

The silence between battles was now nearly nonexistent - one creature after another blocked their path as they slogged further and further towards the center of the keep. It was as though a hive of roaches had been beset upon them - so many higher in number were they now, than before.

They had gone on like this for hours - laying waste to monsters, vampires, and unknown and unnamed creatures alike. They were faring well, all things considered.

"D'ya think this means the armies are back?" Conrad asked as he put a bullet through a floating medusa head. It turned to stone and hit the ground, crumbling to dust. The floating faces of horror were at least enjoyable target practice for his gun-wielding companion.

"Perhaps," Gabriel responded. "We can only hope so."

"D'ya think Adrian and Veil are alright?"

"We can only hope so," Gabriel repeated himself with a heavy sigh. "I fear what this place has fated for them."

"Fear what this place has fated for _us_ instead, pal," Conrad pointed out as he put another bullet cleanly through the forehead of another flying head.

"Wiser words were never spoken!" laughed a sharp edged, cruel voice. "Wiser words were never spoken _indeed!"_

Gabriel whirled - along with Conrad, to face the voice. It belonged to a man - or at least, one wearing the guise of a man. He had a mask over his face, revealing only two gaping black holes for eyes. He was dressed like a gentleman of some bygone era - and in fact even bowed at the waist to them, before cackling like a madman. "It's so sad. Oh so sad!" It spoke in a crooning, sing-song way, belying its utter insanity.

"What's sad, you giggly freak?" Conrad asked, pointing both guns squarely at it.

"That I am not in attendance at the Master's great feast.. Instead, I am sent out into the cold - so sad, so sad… _to fetch the meal!"_ The monster howled in loud, uproarious laughter and vanished as Conrad opened fire - shimmering into nothingness as six neat holes appeared in the wallpaper behind where it had stood a moment prior.

"An illusion," Gabriel observed.

"No kidding!" Conrad snarled - angry at the apparition, not him. Gabriel raised his hands, letting fire and electricity both crackle between his fingertips. They stood back to back, waiting for the creature to reappear.

"The feast will fight, oh yes it will…" the voice crooned from nowhere in particular. "It will fight, and scream, and _bleed and scream again…"_

"Show yourself!" Gabriel shouted.

"But you will be the feast this night! Unless _she_ says otherwise…"

The lights in the room began to snuff out. One by one. Around them in a circle. "Gabe…" Conrad warned, nervousness edging into his voice.

The room was almost in total blackness now, except for the fire glinting between his fingertips. He clenched his fists - blazing the fires brighter. But the shadow of darkness seemed to loom closer to them, even though his flame had not shrunk at all.

"It is an unnatural darkness," Gabriel said, and gestured, opening up a roaring flame before him - but still the shadows grew closer. Soon they'd consume them. And still, they had nothing to _shoot at._ Nothing to attack.

As their world was plunged into blackness - the sing-song voice cackled in laughter. "One by one, by one, they'll eat… _they'll eat your hearts away!"_

* * *

Hours more passed in excruciating boredom. She had already gone through two rounds of '99 bottles of beer' and was actually wishing she actually _had_ 99 bottles of beer. It'd at least give her something to fucking _do._

So she was now playing with the chain that attached to her collar - twisting it into weird shapes, spelling things in cursive on the floor, trying to do anything to keep her mind occupied and away from Vlad's missive to her.

Refuse to help Vlad, and everybody dies. Help Vlad, and he probably kills everybody _anyway._

At least she seemed to have… patched up her relationship with her 'estranged father.' That counted for something. She was ready to give up her hatred towards him, for making her. She understood why. To never be able to create, to only destroy? Of course he wanted to give life for a change.

And Azrael had never meddled with her life. In fact, he never actually showed up in her life at all. That was the first time they had ever spoken outside the place just before death. He had let her live her own life - and that was the difference between him, and Alistair. Alistair tried to mold her… shape her… make her exactly what he wanted her to be. Literally and figuratively.

Death just wanted to make a sandcastle. Alistair wanted it to be _his toy._

Veil kicked the chain with her foot, nudging it along the floor.

A door into the large art gallery swung open - and her heart lit up with hope. Maybe it was Adrian? The priests? Hell, even Alistair if it meant that somebody could set her free.

And just as quickly her hopes fell. A small pack of people flooded into the room. Servants, it looked like. Either vampires, skeletons, or other weird monsters she didn't have names for. They didn't even look at her as they began to bustle around the room, setting up several long wooden tables, bringing in chairs, linen, silverware - you name it. They were a buzzing hive of activity as they rushed in and out.

It looked like they were preparing for a banquet.

Oh for _fuck's sake._

They were setting up a banquet with her chained to a goddamn statue by one wall of the art gallery. It was like a Museum of Fine Arts event from hell.

When one of the servants walked past her, she called out to him. "Hey!"

The vampire paused, afraid, looking as though he was terrified she was going to punch him. He was outside the range of her chain, so he really had nothing to worry about. Unless he knew who she was - _what_ she was. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Master Dracula has demanded a lavish feast be held here, tonight…" and with that, he scampered away.

Veil sighed, and walked to the base of the statue and sat down on the ground. Great. Not only was she chained to a statue - but she was going to be put on display.

This… was not going to go well. Not well at _all._

* * *

Adrian and Richard finally reached the church. But for what good it did, he did not know. It was the only lead he had - the only hope of finding Veil before his father went and did something utterly foolish.

He pushed the heavy wooden doors open for the second time in as many days, and walked into the sanctuary of the cathedral. Richard's shoes on the stone floor were the only sound around them, save the quiet rush of air through the burning torches in sconces on the walls and columns around them.

A figure stood at the altar, kneeling in prayer. It could only be one person.

"Where is she, _priest?"_ Adrian broke the silence.

"No longer here, I am afraid," Lyon said as he rose, his tall, black-clothed frame looking even more angular against the marble background. Turning to face him, his pale features were stoic, impassive.

"What has he done?" Adrian asked, walking towards the priest, his sword drawn.

"He put to her a bargain, of which she refused. Now, she pays the price."

"What _bargain?"_

"Aid us in ridding this world of Asmodeus - who threatens the throne of this castle - and he will spare all your lives. Refuse, and you all die before his wrath, and he uses her as a bargaining chip against the fallen archangel."

Lyon stated it so matter-of-factly - as if it were an errand. A check on a list of things he had to do that day. Adrian narrowed his eyes. "And she refused."

"Of course she did."

"How do I know you speak the truth?"

"I believe she called your father a… 'massive douchebag,'" Lyon said with a small quirk to his lips.

Yes. That sounded like Veil. Adrian felt the muscle in his jaw twitch. "Where has he taken her?"

"I cannot say. I was told to remain here to give unto you the same bargain. Fight alongside your father to remove Asmodeus before he deposes Dracula from the throne of this castle… or you, and everyone else, will die. And in the case of Veil - she will simply suffer for eternity."

"I will not strike such an accord."

"You do realize… how tempting a toy she is for those like us? Certainly you _must._ You have already experienced it yourself, have you not? She cannot be bled to death. Not _truly._ She is a fountain of blood for he who controls her."

"She is not to be controlled. By you, or by _anyone,"_ Adrian felt his anger well up in him, harder than it had done in ages. He stepped forward, sword at the ready - prepared and eager to take the priests head clear from his shoulders.

Lyon did not react except in sadness. "My god… You do love her, don't you? We doubted it - all of us. But what I see before me… you have fed from her. You have taken her as yours, and given her your heart in exchange. You poor boy."

"Enough!" Adrian snarled, his lips curling back in anger. He felt his fangs extend. "Fight me, or be silent, priest!"

"No. I have already been bested once today. A second, and I will not see the morrow. I bid you best of luck in your search…" Lyon bowed at the waist, and disappeared.

"Coward!" Adrian hissed and drove his fist into the pew next to him - splintering the wood around the impact.

His heart was racing - pounding in his ears. He had not had a heartbeat for so many centuries, that it sounded foreign to him now. Anger was pouring through him, hand-in-hand with fear and dread. What had they done? What were they _going_ to do?

* * *

Yup.

This sucked about as much as she thought it might.

The small horde of servants had finished laying out the room for the 'lavish feast.' Large, iron-wrought candelabras stood on stanchions around the room, adding a foreboding flicker to the whole affair. It made the paintings on the wall look even weirder - even more alive. She had no doubt that they were, in some way, sentient.

The wooden tables were placed and decorated with white linen, and elaborate place-settings of gold. The servants knew what to do - and they were practiced and on point like it was an episode of Downton Abbey. She half expected Laura Linney to show up at any moment - except maybe undead.

Food was placed out, plates of grapes, rolls, meats, and so on. Bottles of wine were placed at certain intervals. A feast indeed.

So she did her best to avoid what was going on - and sat to the side of the statue on the ground, one knee bent, her elbow resting on it, glaring at the floor for no reason in particular except the fact that she was about to be _incredibly_ humiliated.

Veil knew why he was doing this. It was easy. Debase her to show her who was in charge. Point out how little she was, and how grateful she should be that he was offering her a way out of this.

Fuck him.

She'd suffer through this like she had suffered through everything _else_ in her life. She'd grin and bear it, just like she did everything else. She'd laugh at it, and come out on the other side. No worse the wear.

It was about then, that the guests started to arrive. Goddamn vampires even had a _chamber ensemble_ playing in the corner. Part of her was amused at the strange peek back in time at the bizarre social affairs of a bygone era. Now it was 'netflix and chill' not 'four part string band and a gigantic party.'

"Is that _her?"_ she heard someone whisper nearby - and she felt like the fat kid at the prom.

 _Sure, fine, whatever,_ she sarcastically said in her head. _C'mere and let me feed you your own fist._

She had no way of telling the time - no idea how long this had been going on. Only that the chamber ensemble had played about six different tunes already.

God, all she wished was that Adrian was here. That he'd save her from this, that he'd wrap her up in his arms, and everything would be fine. With him, she felt safe - normal - _loved._ She hadn't appreciated her time with him when she had it. She knew it'd be fleeting - but not like this.

The vampires and monsters kept up their half-assed, irritating comments. " _That_ is the daughter of Death?" or " _That_ is the thing for which Master Adrian has fallen?"

"Give me my weapon, and I'll show you what this _thing_ can do," she muttered angrily under her breath - seething in rage.

It's one thing to be at a party you didn't want anything to do with. It was another thing to be _a slave_ at the party you wanted nothing to do with. Chained to a goddamn statue like you were another part of the art exhibit.

Someone was going to pay for this. She didn't know when, and she didn't know how - but she was going to _kill_ someone for this. Literally. Maybe multiple people, if she got lucky.

The chit-chat between the vampires and monsters faded as she heard the large set of wooden doors into the room open. She glanced up - and saw why. Dracula. His presence fell over the crowd like a fog. She could see why most of humanity would find it awe inspiring. Why that creature was a leader for so many. He was a monster not to be trifled with.

Veil looked away, trying her best to look bored and uninterested. She could hear them all settling into their chairs, and heard the same muttered chatter as before.

"I have come to present to you an interesting dilemma," Vlad began to speak, his dark voice shushing the crowd better than a gunshot. "The main course, if you will... "

Veil looked up at that. He was sitting in a grand chair at one end of the room across from her. She half expected him to be looking at her in regards to the 'main course' - but no, he was looking at the door set into one wall. "I give you our entertainment for the evening."

The doors swung open, and she felt a knot well up in her chest as she watched two figures were dragged into the room - bloodied, beaten and broken. Their heads were lowered, their arms yanked behind their backs, tied carelessly together at the wrists. One had an apple shoved in his mouth, mockingly treating him like some stuck pig.

For a moment, she thought with terror that she was about to watch Adrian and Richard die as the main course of some feast of the damned. And it was with no small amount of guilt that she realized she was… relieved… when it wasn't them. When it was two other people she knew.

Gabriel and Conrad.

"I give you," Vlad grinned sadistically. "What has become of the _Holy Order."_

That was the first time Veil showed any interest in what was happening. The first time she stood up during all of the wine serving, hors d'oeuvres, self-serving platitudes and ass-kissing at this stupid 'feast.'

She slipped the chain that attached her collar to the statue over her shoulder. Veil walked to the end of its reach, and felt it yank her back as she found the end of its limit. "Don't you _dare,"_ she hissed through her teeth, threatening Dracula.

The room chuckled quietly, and the vampire raised a hand to silence them.

Gabriel was bleeding from a wound to the head, and Conrad was the one with the apple shoved in his teeth. He had a black eye, and he blearily looked up at her - eyes full of fury and pain at what had been done to him and his friend.

"They are our main course for this evening," Vlad said with a gesture. The two priests were shoved forward, nearly tripping over themselves as they were forced towards the hungry banquet table of vampires.

Gabriel was straightened up by one of the two creatures leading him forward, their hand harshly grabbed at his chestnut hair and yanking his head backwards, revealing his neck. The symbolism wasn't subtle.

Vlad's crimson eyes fixed on hers, pinning her in place. "That is, unless _she_ offers herself, in their stead."

* * *

They had walked for hours, now. Richard, silently behind him, as he dispatched one monster after another. The halls had become more crowded. Dracula's armies had returned. At least there was that small consolation - that the countryside may no longer be burning.

It was in a moment of silence between bouts that Richard chose to speak up.

"What'll they do to her?" he asked warily.

"My father is a sadist of the most practiced variety."

"I can see that… but do you have any idea what he's really going to _do_ to her?"

"He will bring her suffering the likes of which she has never experienced. If he is kind, he will simply let any who wish to, feed from her veins. If he is cruel, she may be driven insane by what he levies against her."

Richard was silent for a long moment again before speaking up. "Why don't we find Alistair, then? Get him to help us take Dracula down? He cares for Veil - just as much as you do."

What an odd choice of words from the professor. Adrian glanced at him, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. The professor blinked, and stammered. "I mean, he claims to love her. Not the same as you do, obviously, but - he can help us save her."

"But at what cost? If he seeks the throne of this castle - he would be unstoppable, would he take it for himself."

"Would he?" Richard countered. "He's pretty damn powerful as it is, and has never once waged war on mankind like Dracula has…"

Adrian's next words were definitive. The end of the argument, one way or another. "Neither will win this day."

* * *

"It is a simple bargain," Vlad spun a wine glass slowly between his fingers, watching it thoughtfully as it rotated. "Either we bleed them dry, whilst we feast upon their flesh… Or you take their place."

Veil clenched her jaw, and shut her eyes, wanting nothing more than to punch the asshole in his smug face. She opened her eyes only to glare at him. "And what promise do I have that you'll let them live?"

"I am a _creature_ of my word," Vlad said with a grin, spreading his hands wide to gesture at the table around him. "And they will keep me to it. Take their place… and they live this night. To watch _you_ suffer the pain of our kiss, instead."

"I'm going to kill you for this," she hissed through her teeth. "I promise you."

Her threat only seemed to feed the hunger of the monsters seated around the table. Only seemed to egg them on. She realized then, all at once - that there were some two dozen monsters watching her, eager to see whose life they would take that night. The priests - or hers, over, and over again.

Veil lowered her head, her blue hair falling around her face, as she glared at the marble floor. That was the kicker, wasn't it? No matter what she did, it always came down to this. She couldn't die. They very much could. So it was her duty to carry that in their place. To keep them alive, at least for one more night.

Vlad seemed to know what her decision would be in that moment, before she even had to voice it aloud. With a snap of his fingers, the chain that was around her neck fell to the floor with the tell-tale sound of metal coiling onto the stone floor. The collar that kept her from phasing out into the spiritual world remained, though - kept her from escaping. Kept her from freedom.

"Come," he beckoned her. No. He _ordered_ her - and that made her want to stick a wine glass straight up his cape-wearing ass. "Obey me, or we will see them die this night," he warned her.

 _I am not your slave,_ she yelled in her mind. Full of fury, she looked up at Vlad with a dark, hateful expression. It only made him grin in response. Fine. She could suffer this indignation. She walked forward - glad to at least be free of the chain that kept her shackled to the statue. As she walked passed the table of vampires, they all turned to watch her- inhuman eyes of every shade trained keenly on her to see what she would do.

"Sculpted by an angel indeed…" one of them went to paw at her, and she reacted instinctively - by backhanding the vampire. She snatched a steak knife from the table and held the point against his neck as his head rocked back with the force of her blow. Eyes that were once green turned a vivid red as he hissed at her, fangs bared - outraged at her attack.

"Touch me again, _asshole -_ and I'll feed you your own goddamn fist," she snarled at the stranger. She pushed the knife harder against his throat, and the vampire tilted his head back with it, as she called his bluff. "Understand?!"

Veil expected anger from the other vampires at the table - but instead they looked… intrigued. Happy. Excited. Like lions watching a kill. It was like they wanted her to spill his blood - or that blood be spilled at all.

"Enough," Vlad broke into the silence. He didn't sound… mad. Just forceful. That the show was over. "Release him, or the priests will die."

Veil chucked the knife onto the table, letting it clatter against the silverware, plates, and delicate crystal glasses.

She looked to Conrad and Gabriel - who were now both on their knees. Gabriel looked half awake - concussed and dizzy. Conrad was bleary, with blood drying around one of his eyes, keeping him from opening it all the way.

She'd save their lives if she could. Again, and again, and again. Her blood meant nothing. What was more pain and suffering? What was more trips into death and back? This was her lot in life. This was her curse. Fine. Veil straightened her shoulders defiantly, and walked up to Vlad. She stood next to him where he sat, and kept her glare fixed on him.

Vlad lifted his hand to her, his palm up, fingers open. Asking for something. Holding his hand out for - oh.

Main course. Right.

This was his challenge. Do this willingly, or the two priests die. Veil let out a low growl, and then let it trail off into a sigh. This was great. _Just_ great. "I'm going to kill you for this," she promised him, her voice barely above a whisper. As she spoke, she put her wrist in his palm. His pale fingers - almost grey, they were so devoid of life - closed around her, his pointed nails pressing into her skin. He lowered his lips to her wrist, and she felt his cold breath against her.

"Fear that I will hold you to your avowal, little one," he responded with a smirk, his lips ghosting over her skin, his words barely audible.

She didn't have any time to think about the meaning behind what he had said, before he zeroed the distance between his lips and her wrist, and she felt his fangs pierce her skin. Adrian's bite had been gentle. Even in passion and in starvation, it had been careful, tentative - grateful, even.

Vlad's bite was nothing like that. It was harsh and raw. It stung with a primal hunger. She knew the pain was coming, and she kept herself from reacting except maybe a twitch of her fingers. Veil was also prepared for the next part - the rush of pleasure.

She focused everything she could on not responding to what crashed over her like the break of a wave. If Adrian's brought pleasure, this brought… Christ, there were no words for it. Her knees almost buckled out from under her. She had to grab onto the back of his chair to keep from hitting the floor. Veil didn't make a noise - at least she could take pride in that.

His heartbeat thrummed in her ears - throbbed in her entire body. It threatened to drive away the entire world. If she let it, everything would fall away from her except _him._ His hunger. His presence. His _passion._ Veil felt dizzy, and she shut her eyes, trying to force it away. No wonder he was legendary for his irresistible allure. No wonder he was known for being so hypnotic and addictive. Veil had never done cocaine - but she imagined this wasn't far off. It was hard to know how much time had passed while he greedily drank from her, sucking on the wound, pulling as much as he could as fast as he could. When she finally managed to open her eyes, the world teetered around her dangerously.

Vlad parted his lips from her wrist as the world upended around her. An arm snaked around her waist, and harshly pulled her back upright. Someone pressed her against their chest, and a hand pulled her coat and tank top down away from her left shoulder. A pair of teeth pierced her neck. It was more like he was taking a bite out of corn on the cob - he dragged his teeth as he bit, and she felt him carve two deep trenches in her skin.

It was more than enough to break her reverie from Dracula's bite. Veil snarled, digging her elbow into the man's chest. It was enough to make him break his grip on her neck. She whirled and planted her fist straight into his nose. It was the same one from before - coming for payback.

Adrenaline was a hell of a thing - blood loss be damned. She picked up a plate from the table and swung it at the vampire's face - clocking him hard, sending his head snapping to the side with the impact.

The laughter from the room was at the vampire - not her, she realized. They were almost cheering her on like it was a boxing match.

She smashed the vampire again in the head with the plate - hard enough to bend it in half. Veil took a step forward to try and continue the assault - but the world tilted dangerously and she collapsed to the floor. The plate clattered away from her as she let it go, opting to put her hands to the marble floor instead of letting her head be what impacted it first. She felt the hot blood from the two deep cuts in her neck ooze into her shirt and her coat. The wounds would heal - but she was already almost bled dry.

"Little _bitch!"_ the vampire swore angrily.

There was a crash from above her, and she struggled to turn her head to see what had happened. Vlad had grabbed the offending vampire around the neck, and slammed him onto the table, face down. The impact rattled the dishware. His hand was on the back of his head, pressing it down into the white cloth - _hard_. The vampire king's face was twisted in rage. "Take care with how you treat your prey, Daniels. Manners remain the breath of distance between the halls of your betters, and the _brothels_ you frequent."

"Y, yes, my master," the vampire stammered.

"I remind you all that she remains now and ever will be the daughter of _Death_. And he will not take kindly to such… disrespect. Remember yourselves this evening. As for _you-"_ Dracula snarled, yanking 'Daniels' up from the table by the back of his neck. "Begone from my sight." She watched as Vlad _hurled_ him across the room like he was a ball of paper. Daniels smashed into the wall and crumpled to the ground with a low groan. In a small swirl of mist, the vampire disappeared - not wanting to meet more wrath from the vampire king.

What the hell was happening? Her vision tipped and swirled again and everything was a blur. Everything was moving in too many directions at once. Something was under her - no, wait, someone placed her _on_ something. She opened her eyes, startled and terrified - lashing out at whoever was touching her.

Hands grabbed her wrists - not hard, but enough to make her stop. Her eyes finally focused on the face over hers. Lyon. She yanked on her wrists, trying to pull them free, but she couldn't even budge them. She had matched the priest in a fight - but that was before she had been bled out by Dracula himself.

She was lying on some kind of bench. It had armrests on either side, and it was upholstered a deep blue. It was off to one wall, a few paces away from the banquet table. He had put her down on it, likely when she had passed out and almost hit the floor.

Veil heard a grunt and a muffled swear from next to her - and she turned her head weakly to see Gabriel and Conrad being dragged over towards her. They were thrown to the floor, where they lay in a heap, some five feet from her.

They were a reminder. Do this, _or else._ It was probably also meant to torment them - to watch her suffer in their place.

Veil felt fear well up in her stomach at the idea of being fed from by so many vampires - she glared up at Lyon as best she could. "What'm I," she said, her words slurring. "The whore at the company Christmas party?"

But she was doing this to save Conrad and Gabriel. She tried to remind herself of that. "Why… why is he doing this?" she asked Lyon, as she really honestly didn't understand. To show her she was powerless? To show her that he had control over her - that he'd use his prisoners as leverage? But why like _this?_

Lyon was sitting next to where she lay on the bench, looming over her like the statue of an angel in a graveyard. "I cannot say," he said quietly, as he pressed one of her hands back down at her side, keeping it pressed down to the cloth, so she couldn't struggle. The other hand, still clasped around her other hand, raised it up to his lips.

For the first time, she saw him truly look like a vampire - his ice blue eyes edging crimson around the outer rim of his pupils.

"So you know why, but you can't tell me," Veil confirmed. She sighed. So Vlad had another game he was playing with her. She hated being a pawn. Hated being _trapped._

"Forgive me," he said, and she suspected the apology was for more than one thing. Lyon sank his fangs into the tender skin of her wrist without any further discussion. She pulled in a sharp hiss of breath - feeling the pain that was so quickly becoming familiar to her. Lyon's bite was more similar to Adrian's, than Vlad's. Careful, instead of passionate. Gentle.

Veil watched as the priest fed from her - his eyes sliding shut as he became lost in the experience. His face, usually forlorn - smoothed into one of contentment. It was a look of _peace_ that she recognized from Adrian. A reprieve from torment. It was that image that was in her mind as her heart stopped beating, and her world faded away into nothingness.

Veil floated in the place before death, in that pond of perfectly still water, as far as the eye could see, and as black as pitch.

"Is this what you were talking about?" she asked the darkness. "What you said was going to happen to me?"

" _If only…"_ came Azrael's sad reply.

She didn't have the time to ask another question before the living world came sharply back into existence. She gasped in pain - her back arching, the cold that pervaded her body sinking into her bones. Veil shivered, feeling her body struggle to heat itself back up. Her breath was mist against the warmer air.

When she could see again, she found she wasn't alone. Someone was over her - one knee between her legs, hovering near her. She tried to push them away - she knew it wasn't Adrian. And that was the only person she'd entertain the thought of being that close.

A voice chuckled near her ear. "Ah, votre défi rend le goût beaucoup plus doux, ma chérie…" She didn't need to speak French to know the man was likely being a complete asshole. Cold breath poured against her cheek. She couldn't help it - she let out a whimper as the stranger pierced her neck with his fangs, just above where the enchanted collar fell. The pain was quickly replaced with pleasure, ands he felt his hand rest against her side. She shoved it away vehemently, even through the fog.

Darkness took her once more, although this time simply into unconsciousness, and not into death.

How many times she slipped away and came back, she couldn't tell. It felt like a fever dream. So many hungry creatures came and left - so many pairs of teeth pierced her skin. They all blurred together into one awful moment in time.

That was, until she woke up to feel a pair of lips pressed against her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth. It was enough to force her out of the dizziness. Veil turned her head away. "Stop," she let out in a weak breath, not having the strength for anything else.

A figure was pressed close to her again. But this time, it felt… different. Lighter - more feminine. Flashes of emerald made her turn her head. A woman was over her, now - propped up against the side of the bench she had been placed upon. Veil felt feverish, looking up at the beautiful face of a vampiress, whose deep green hair fell down around her face, touching the skin of her neck.

"Don't you think we make quite the pair?" the vampiress cooed, and Veil felt her fingers trace down her cheek, then back up to her temple and into her hair - to curl a sapphire lock around her fingers. "I think we'd make an adorable couple…"

"Fuck off," Veil threatened, although her voice lacked any strength to back it up. "And get the fuck off me."

The vampiress smiled bright, her eyes lighting up in amusement. "I can see why Cousin adores you so! Such fire, such resolve… He is so _terribly_ worried over you. Racing about the halls of his former home, searching!. Trying to _save_ you. You taste so wonderful… you look so divine. I doubted the truth to his conviction before - but now that I see you, now that I can savor you for myself - I know he speaks plainly."

The emerald-haired vampiress lowered her head to kiss her - and Veil turned her face away. She planted her kiss instead on her cheek - and it wasn't a benign, friendly kiss. It was heated, and if Veil had wanted to, she was sure the vampiress would take it further. "You taste like him… You've had him, haven't you? You've lain together! How _wonderful!_ " she giggled like a schoolgirl. "How lonely he's been, all these years. What is it like - is he fierce, or tame? How I've always wondered… Really, with him, I could ponder it going either way."

"Fuck… _off_ ," she repeated. Christ, her head was swimming - the world was a drunken blur. She wanted everything to settle down. She felt like any, and all of this, could be a dream.

The vampiress laughed again, and turned Veil's head forcefully towards hers, and kissed her. Veil let out an angry 'mnfrh!' noise and tried to rip her head away.

"Elizabeth," a deep voice scolded. Dracula. "No."

The emerald-haired monster broke her kiss and let out a petulant whine. "But _uncle…_ "

"She does not belong to you."

Elizabeth let out a deep sigh and finally pushed herself up off of Veil. Veil was glad for the air - she hadn't realized how overpowering the woman's perfume had been until it was gone. "Fine!" The vampiress said with all the dignity of an eight year old.

Veil lost track of when the vampiress got up off the bench, and left. She lost track of a lot of things. It wasn't until someone took her place, that she managed to refocus her eyes on whoever was now looming over her.

Oh goodie. It was Dracula.

"Leave me alone," she slurred up at him. "You've done 'nuff."

He chuckled and ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek, which made her turn her head away again. "I wonder. Will this be enough? Sadly, I am dubious."

"Enough for _what?_ " she asked, as the world swam dangerously around her.

"For you to truly despise me."

When Veil tried to look at him, and ask him why he was trying to get her to despise him - his hand shifted on her cheek, keeping her face turned away from him. She struggled, helplessly - as she felt his head lower to her neck. "No," she tried to sound firm. "Stop," it just sounded weak.

"Remember my cruelty, little one." His fangs pierced her neck, and this time she couldn't keep her composure. She let out a pained whimper - desperately just wanting it all to _stop._ The pleasure that flooded over her wasn't welcome - but it did nothing to stop it from invading her mind.

She felt his heartbeat again, felt his presence wrap itself around her mind like a warm blanket. Felt it try and pull her away into the bliss of the embrace - the bliss of _him._ Veil kept it at arm's length - but barely.

It was only the kind arrival of death that took it all away from her.


	17. Chapter 17

**Enjoy! This one's a bit of a doozy. I'll try and get another chapter out before the end of the night. Thanks for the reviews everyone - and as always, drop me a line if you feel so inclined! :)**

* * *

Another death, another return to consciousness lying on a goddamn stone floor.

She was looking up at the starkly angled view of the statue of Anubis. Apparently, they had simply chained her unconscious - dead - body back to the carved figure and left her there. Veil shivered, and let out a slow and wavering breath. That had taken a lot out of her - dying so many times, to so many creatures. Likely, she'd been asleep for several hours, trying to recuperate.

"Hey," she heard from near her. She lifted her head, and looked over - and there, by one wall, she smiled faintly at the familiar face.

Conrad. Very much the worse for wear, but alive. He was shackled with his arms behind his back - strapped to another large statue by an iron chain, less carefully than she had been. Gabriel was similarly lashed to another statue's base - but he was unconscious.

They weren't alone. Lyon, the priest - was standing against one wall, leaning against it. His eyes were shut, his elbow resting on one hand, fingers against his chin. Without knowing any better, he could have been another piece of artwork and she'd have walked right by him.

"I'm glad you're both… well, alive," she said, sitting up with a huff, and combed both her hands through her blue hair, straightening it out.

"What you did," he said - his voice sounding funny. She realized why. His jaw was swollen from being hit, and judging by the blood on his lips, he had been knocked very stiffly across the face. "Y'didn't need to."

"Yeah, I did," she responded. She healed - fast. They, very much didn't. "They were going to do it anyway. Every one of those assholes," she said with a pointed glare to Lyon, even though he wasn't looking. "Wanted the answer to the question of what I tasted like. They were going to kill you, then feed from me anyway."

Conrad lowered his head. "We're goin'ta die anyway."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Veil pushed herself up to standing, teetered for a moment before catching her balance, and walked to the end of the length of chain that kept her tethered to the statue. It put her about ten feet from the priests - but it was as much comfort as she could really offer either of them right now. "Adrian's still out there. And as much as I hate to say it… so is Alistair."

"You think that demon'd help us?" Conrad lifted his head - looking at her blearily through an eye that was nearly swollen shut. Christ, they hadn't been kind to the two priests. They looked barely alive. Even if Adrian or - shudder - Alistair were to save them, they'd be little use in a battle. Maybe a mystical healer could help them - but she very much wasn't one of those, and didn't exactly have one kicking around.

Richard was no good in a fight. They were effectively down Conrad and Gabriel. Could she and Adrian really take on Dracula - alone? Or would they really, honestly, need Alistair's help?

Veil lowered her head. "He would. He absolutely would. Especially if he thought it meant something to me." Veil sat down on the ground at the edge of the reach of the chain, sitting cross-legged. "He's a sick asshole, with little respect for humans. But the difference is, he thinks he does. He really honestly believes he loves humanity."

Conrad snorted. "Nobody who lets anybody run 'round like goddamn wooden-puppet-Pinocchio has any real respect for humanity. So why? I mean, why does he think he 'loves' us?"

"It's complex. But in short - because we can choose to ascend, or descend. We can choose a path to good or evil. Because we can create life - something he yearns for. Hense, yours truly," she gestured at herself. "Because we live short lives. Because we're like fireworks in the night sky - flashy, bright, loud, beautiful, but brief. He loves us a good book. No matter how much you love the story, it'll always end. There'll always be a last page. He doesn't get to share in that… what did he call it once? 'Dignity in brevity.' Those are all things he can't ever have."

"I keep forgettin' you two spent… y'know, time together." Conrad coughed, and she watched as blood flecked his lips. Oh christ - she knew what that meant. Either he had blood in his mouth - or blood in his lungs. If it was the later, he needed medical help. Fast.

But there was no chance of that happening right now. So she tried to ignore it, and answered his comment. "Five years. I spent five years as his 'fiance,' at his side like one of his goons, worshipping the ground he walked on." She didn't mean to sound so bitter about it - but it was hard not to be.

"Sorry I brought it up," Conrad said, flashing the best grin he could, through the pain.

"He's like a bad ex-boyfriend. Just keeps showing up at the worst of times," Veil answered his grin with her own.

Conrad coughed again, this time worse than before. This time, there was no question. He had blood in his lungs. He wheezed, hacked again, his cough sounding heavy and thick with fluid. He moaned, as the coughing must also be exceedingly painful. He struggled for breath, doubling over as much as he could against the chain holding him in place.

Veil stood back up, and tried to go to him - forgetting for a moment she was on a leash. She jerked as the chain yanked her backwards. She looked to vampiric priest up against the wall, who had yet to move. "Lyon," she said. It was only then, that he opened his ice blue eyes - but did not look at her. "He needs help."

"I have been told to guard you three. Nothing else."

"Guard from what? Death? Because he's going to need-"

Lyon interrupted her before she could finish. "From Adrian or Alistair." Finally, the eyes that were so pale they were nearly white looked up at her - and she saw no emotion there but the same, eternal and placid sadness of a cemetery angel. "If Death wishes to come for him, it is none of my concern."

"You bargained to save their lives once. Do it again," she walked towards him, once again reaching the edge of the circumference created by the chain. She growled in frustration and yanked on it to vent some of her annoyance. It did no other good.

"I have nothing to bargain with," he answered.

Veil gritted her teeth, and put her head in her hands. He didn't. She did. That's why the priests were here. Because she either watched them die, or she did what Dracula asked.

"Don't do it," Conrad wheezed in between hacking coughs. "Let us d-" he couldn't finish, and began to gasp for air, before choking down whatever was blocking his throat, and leaning back against the statue - unable to keep speaking. His head slumped to the side, and he was out cold. He may not ever wake up again.

Let them die. That's what he had tried to say. That she should let them die.

Let them die - or help Dracula. The creature she came here to kill.

"Take me to talk to him," Veil said as her hands clenched into fists.

"No need."

The voice from behind her announced Dracula's presence. She turned to look at him - his dour expression observing her with no pleasure and no hate. He was an immovable object - the same as Lyon.

"Is this my future?" she asked the vampire king. He didn't respond, so she walked towards him a few feet, asked again. "Are all immortals destined to become like you? Or like him?" she gestured to Lyon. "Is this my future? To be an unfeeling, uncaring monster? Is this what happens after time runs its course? You were both human once. Or can't you even remember anymore?"

Both the vampires were silent, unmoving.

"What's the point of all this?" she asked Dracula. "Killing the world? Torturing people? Why? Boredom? Pleasure? Both?!" More silence. Veil sighed and lowered her head. They didn't care. "I hope somebody finds a way to kill me, before I turn into something like you." Still, neither of them responded. "So what, then? I finally agree to help you, and you let them live?"

Finally, Dracula spoke. But it wasn't what she expected. "No."

Veil blinked - astonished. He had said no. He really said no. "What…?"

His voice was cold and unfeeling. "You had your chance. Now, you will watch them suffer and die."

"Why?!" She stormed towards him, uncaring if he hit her or not. He simply stood there as she reached the edge of her chain, a foot before she could try and punch him. She gagged as it yanked her back. "Why are you doing this?"

"They knew what it meant to come here. To challenge me. They spent their own lives needlessly, not I."

"That's a load of horseshit. What kind of story is that? 'I'm an evil asshole, so it's not my fault when I'm an evil asshole.' You're making a choice. Every time you wake up and decide to be an asshole, it's a choice. Every life you take is a choice. Don't make stupid excuses."

"You seek to lecture me, on my nature… How bright your fire burns. I wonder how long it will sustain you into the darkness of eternity. How long will it blaze, while you unwillingly tread through time?" Vlad spoke, his words dark as he stepped towards her.

Veil kept her footing, not retreating from him - what was he going to do, kill her? He'd already done that a few times. Vlad's hand reached out and snatched her chin between his thumb and fingers. She smacked his hand away, and went for a punch - and suddenly her wrist was snapped behind her back, wrenched painfully up behind her. She cried out as it felt like he was going to snap her arm in half. He probably would have, if it wouldn't have interrupted his monologue.

"You wish to know if you are doomed to be as we - cold, and unfeeling. I say it is inevitable. You are young. You do not yet know what it means to lose all that you love - to watch all that you care for fade and crumble into dust. Even the mountains themselves will change, before you." He pushed her forward, towards the end of the chain closest to Conrad and Gabriel. Forcing her to look at the two suffering priests. Conrad was half conscious, wheezing through his blood-filled lungs. Dracula spoke again. "This is my lesson to you, in answer to your question. You will watch them die - slowly. And you will be helpless to do anything to save them."

He let go of her arm by throwing her forward - which knocked her to the ground. She pulled her sore arm around in front of her and held her shoulder. A roar of fire announced the vampire king's exit. Good. She was about to tell him off - which was just going to cause her more pain.

Veil realized that Lyon was still standing silently against the wall, eyes cast downward to the floor. He hadn't moved, or spoken, since she had woken up. "So we solved the mystery of why they're here-" she gestured to Conrad and Gabriel. "So why're you here?"

Lyon remained silent. Which left her to try and put it together on her own. Veil pulled her legs around from where she had landed on her knees, and sat on the ground. It was a mystery - all of it. Vlad's strange cryptic words to her, this entire time - and now this.

Making her watch Conrad and Gabriel die - that she understood. Vlad was making her pay for her refusal to help him. He was, as he had stated - a creature of his word. So now she would have to watch the two priests of the Holy Order die. It turned her stomach - it made her sick. She had come to like the two men, having actually grown fond of them.

Richard would be next.

But why was Lyon here, alone? She had beaten him in a fight. Chances are, if Adrian showed up, they'd kill him. Let alone Alistair. The priest was strong - incredibly so - but beatable. So why would Dracula put him here, to watch them suffer?

It was that train of thought that gave her the answer - and it went off in her mind like a crystal bell. "Oh," she said, and suddenly felt bad for him. "He's teaching you a lesson too, isn't he."

Pale, nearly white eyes met hers for the first time that night. But still, he didn't speak.

"You bargained to save their lives once - you helped Octavian capture us, to spare them. So he's showing you how futile that was. How pointless that act of mercy really turned out to be. He's making you watch them die, same as me." Veil let out a long breath. "I'm sorry. For him to do that to you - to do that to somebody who's actually loyal to him? Fuck. I feel bad for you."

Lyon's eyes slid shut, and he was once more the perfect marble statue. But this time, he spoke. "Thank you."

The room descended into silence, then - just Conrad's labored breathing while he slept. She stood up, and went to sit at the base of the statue again - mainly just to have something to lean against.

There wasn't any way she could get herself out of this. With the collar on her neck, keeping her from stepping back and forth between this world and the spirit world - she was trapped. She was as helpless as anyone else would be.

Not that anybody was listening - but she silently prayed for someone to come and save them. Hell, she'd be happy to see Alistair at this point, if it meant a way out of this.

She rested her head against the base of the statue, and sighed. This… sucked. After a long time of sitting - doing nothing - sleep crept over her mind once again.

* * *

It had been many hours of walking, of fighting, and of searching - to no avail. Adrian knew the castle did not wish Veil to be found. The castle served its master - and it seemed its master had an agenda this night.

His human companion was tiring. The professor was ill suited to the life of a soldier - or that of a hunter. Few came here to battle Dracula willingly - and none truly came against their own compulsion. To be here, in this place of suffering and slaughter was weighing heavily on his mind. Adrian saw it written plainly across the man's face, and in every furtive action. In every terrified glance into the shadows, Adrian saw a man afraid to die.

The creatures of the castle seemed thinner in this area, than others that they had recently passed through. Yet another long stretch of hallways and corridors that he remembered from his childhood. From the 'happier days' of his youth, for what little good it served.

He pulled up short as they rounded a corner, and stretched out his hand to warn Richard to approach no further. They were no longer alone.

"Hello, cousin!" came Elizabeth's cheerful cry. She waved at him, then giggled like a schoolgirl.

Adrian narrowed his eyes. Another interruption from his so-called 'cousin.' The deranged vampiress with no actual ties to his family, save perhaps a spiritual one. He remained still - and did not speak. It would bait her to play her hand, he knew. His silence was a never-ending source of frustration for the green haired vixen.

Sure enough, she pouted. "Not even a greeting. How rude. I came to see how your search for your lady love was fairing - and not well, it seems! I cannot imagine why," she said with a cruel grin. "You know quite well that if Uncle does not wish for someone to be found, it is useless."

Adrian remained silent - and merely glared at her.

"I can see why you are so keen on her," she said with a purr to her voice. "She tastes quite wonderful."

In the blink of an eye, his hand was around her throat, and she was slammed up against the wall. She shrieked in surprise - he had moved faster than even another vampire could sense.

Adrian lifted her from the ground and onto the tips of her toes, his voice a low growled hiss. "Speak your meaning, harlot."

"Harlot! Why," she laughed, although the constriction on her throat kept her sounding more choked than arrogant. "Your Veil did not complain when I kissed her lips. How I could taste you on her skin, cousin… how wonderful it was to savor both of you at once. How exquisite was her blood on my tongue - all of us at the feast commented as such. Quite a treat!" When his hand tightened dangerously, she squeaked. "Alright, alright! Enough!" she gasped. "I did not come here to fight!"

"If you are not here to die, then why else?" he demanded, his voice dark and angry - more so than he anticipated. He knew that Vlad would be unkind and cruel - and his mind could only dream of the horrors he had paid to Veil in Adrian's absence. What she insinuated was clear - that Veil had been used to feed a pack of hungry vampires. Unsurprising… They would wish to know what it was like to drain someone who could never truly run dry. It made him wish to burn this place to the ground - with all of them inside.

"Twofold. One, to warn you. Uncle has a great horror in store for your love. One to pale in comparison to any you could dream. Whatever defilement you believe he could pay her, is nothing to what he intends to perform. It is in retribution for your refusals to aid him against Alistair. So you should seek to change your mind - or find her quickly."

Adrian growled and threw the woman from him. Elizabeth fell to the ground, sliding to a stop, and stood back up quickly, brushing herself off. Her words were no surprise to Adrian. He knew this - knew that Vlad would seek to pay some great cruelty to them. His father was scheming - towards what end, he did not yet know. "And the second?"

"Someone was begging me to bring her to speak to you, once she learned you 'had come home.' I could not stand her pleas any longer!" Elizabeth turned sidelong, and her voice became quieter - gentler as she called out for someone who he could not see. "Come, Veronika - it is safe. He will not harm you."

Adrian felt a cold chill run down his spine as a little girl - looking perhaps seven of age, stepped out from behind a corner, peeking at him - blue eyes that were so dark they became nearly purple, were wide like saucers.

"You are truly heartless, Elizabeth…" Adrian said under his breath.

The green-haired vampiress heard him, and laughed. "I am heartless? I? You, who have forsaken your life - your history - your family. To oppose your father is one thing. To oppose us all? Quite another…"

Veronika stepped out from behind the column. Hands clutched to her chest - her delicate, dainty dress of black and purple lace flaring out about her. Her blonde hair was about her in perfect curls. She was a vision of the perfection of youth, if corrupted and dark. Her skin was the pale, telltale hue of a vampire.

"My god," he heard Richard say from behind him. "A child…"

Indeed. Such things were forbidden. To turn a child was one of the greatest sins a vampire could commit. For they were locked, eternally, in such a state. It was unforgivable. And the monster who had turned Veronika suffered a terrible fate - but it did little to solve her torment.

Another innocent creature - left to deal with the consequence of their making. The analogy to Veil was not lost on him. Nor was it appreciated.

"Adry?" Veronika peeped, nervously. The poor girl was trembling, and he realized, with a deep sense of dread - it was out of fear of him.

'Adry.' He had forgot about that nickname she had given him, so many centuries ago. When she would follow him about, tugging on his coat, begging for him to play with her. And every time, he would give in. He would scoop her up into his arms with a smile, and acquiesce to whatever request she had that night. Either to help her weave flowers in the garden into wreaths or to play hide-and-seek in the library, much to the consternation of the elder librarian.

Even though she was many centuries older than he, she remained locked in the state of a child. Ever unable - or unwilling - to accept what she truly was. In the rare instances that such a creature suffered existence, their minds took one of two paths - either to arrest themselves as an eternal child, never maturing or growing into an adult. Or, the far more disturbing result, was a mind of a grown individual, trapped in the casings of a small child. The later was far more likely to descend into madness. Veronika, for whatever reason, was the former.

He felt his resolve crack, looking at her fear of him. "It is I, Veronika…" he said to the young girl, and removed his hand from the hilt of his sword finally. "You have nothing to fear." And it was true. He could no more kill Veronika than a child of a true seven years.

The little waif ran towards him, and before he could react, she had thrown her arms about his waist, hugging him as though he were all that mattered in the world. "I've missed you!" she cried.

"I have missed you too, little one," he said with a faint smile, and rested his hand on her head. He realized, shockingly - his words were truth. He had indeed missed the child. And the happier, safer times that accompanied her.

Elizabeth was content to stand there, arms folded, and watch the scene unfold with a smile. It was not a spiteful grin, as he expected - but a sad one. He did not have much time to debate her expression before Veronika spoke again. "People have said such horrible things!"

"Like what, Nika..?" he asked, dreading the answer. He used her old nickname by accident - it came springing to his tongue unbidden.

The little girl pushed back from him, but did not release his coat. She held the hem of it in both hands, not wanting to let go of him. "That you're here to kill Grandpapa. That you're here to kill all of us."

Ah yes. He had forgotten about that. Elizabeth was not alone in the conceit of calling Dracula by a familiar name - but in this instance, no one in the castle would think to challenge Veronika's claim. It was her mind, teetering on the edge of madness, grasping at normality. Indeed, Dracula doted on the child, and encouraged the fallacy to continue. Perhaps his father enjoyed having a family in any manner he was allowed. The thought struck no small dischord in him.

"Did they tell you why?" Adrian asked finally, and crouched down to look at the young girl eye to eye.

"Grandpapa has been bad. He's been hurting the humans. A lot of them. So you're going to stop him."

"That's right," Adrian said, reaching up to put his hand on her cheek. "I am not here to hurt you."

"That's not.. That's not what they've said," she looked down at the ground, her hands leaving the hem of his coat to tangle in her dress, twisting the fabric between her fingers. "They've said you're going to kill us all. Forever."

There was the point Elizabeth was making. There was the dagger in the dark.

Adrian shut his eyes, and lowered his head. Was he? Would he? If given the option, would he destroy them all, even creatures such as her? Ones that may not deserve oblivion? She was an abomination - a monster that should never have been made. Never have been allowed to continue. But such words had come from Veil herself, had they not? Had she not issued such inward loathing, for what she had no control over? Who was he, to condemn this child, when he would take another of the same fate into his arms?

Who was he, to condemn them all? "That is not my intention," he said finally. Such was the truth, after all - he had come here to end Dracula, nothing else. "I do not know how I would even accomplish such a thing."

He held out his arms to the young vampire. The child ran into his arms, throwing her thin arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Adrian wrapped his arms around her, hugging her in turn. "I knew they were lying," Veronika chimed, squeezing him tighter. "I knew you wouldn't kill everyone. If Grandpapa has been bad, he should be punished."

"Do you think Dracula has… eh… 'been bad?'" Adrian asked, the words feeling foolish on his tongue.

Veronika finally loosened her hug, and stepped back, allowing Adrian to strand back up. Her eyes went to Richard, who he heard gulp nervously and take a further retreating step backwards, away from the little vampiress. "Hi!" she peeped, and then looked back up at Adrian. "Why is he hurting the humans?"

"Because he does not like them."

Veronika scrunched up her face as she thought, and twisted the lace of her dress between her hands again. "That doesn't seem like a good reason… I don't like some people, but that doesn't mean I should kill them."

"That's right," Adrian put his hand on top of her head and tousled her hair affectionately. "And that is why I must stop him."

"It means we'll all go back to the strange place again," Veronika sighed. "But I believe you."

The 'strange place' - the netherworld that the castle existed when it was not manifest in the physical world. He himself had never seen it - and knew little about what it must be like to exist in a world outside this reality.

"Come, Nika-" Elizabeth called. "We should let Adry get back to what he was doing."

Veronika bounded back to Elizabeth, and took her hand in both hands. "What's he doing?" she said, as she looked up at the green haired vampiress curiously.

"He's looking for his love. Grandpapa has stolen her away."

"Oooh…" Nika frowned over at him. "That's mean." Her face brightened. "Can we go see her?" she piped, turning her face back up to Elizabeth.

"Why, I don't see why not…" Elizabeth said with a wicked smile pointed squarely at Adrian. "We can make sure she's alright - since he can't. And we have business to deal with, with the priests anyway."

Veronika bounced happily. "Oh! I'd love that. We can help Adry!"

"What business?" Adrian asked.

"Oh, we're to drink them dry, if they still live. They are with Veil. She offered herself as a feist in their stead, after all." Elizabeth said with a nonchalant shrug.

Adrian stepped towards them, wishing very much to remove Elizabeth's head from her shoulders. But he could not, with Veronika there. Elizabeth merely smiled, knowing precisely what she had done.

"Don't worry Adry! I'll make sure she's okay," Veronika giggled.

And with that, they were gone in a swirl of black mist.

Damn, Adrian swore in his head, his eyes shut. Veil was suffering, yes - but Gabriel and Conrad were now as good as dead. He would not reach them in time to stop Elizabeth, who would never hesitate to spill blood. He prayed for their souls silently.

"I… I hate to interrupt," Richard said from behind him. "But… would you care to explain any of that to me..?"

* * *

"Blue. Hey, Blue..."

A voice woke her up, and she blinked, squeezing her eyes for a moment to get them to focus. She lifted her head - she must have dozed off sitting against the statue. Everything was about as she left it - with a vampiric priest standing, statuesque against the wall - and two more priests, of the mortal and very wounded variety, chained to statues.

It was Conrad who had spoken. Gabriel was awake, although he looked a little unaware of what was happening - a bad concussion, she figured. Conrad looked… Christ. He looked awful. His skin was ashen, and the most color he had were his eyes, which were bloodshot - and his lips, flecked red with blood. His skin shone with sweat, and he was shivering. His shirt was stained with blood that he had coughed up. His arms were chained behind his back, and he was unable even to wipe the blood, dry or thick with mucus, off himself.

He was dying.

Veil stood up, and walked to the edge of the length of chain that kept her attached to the carved statue of Anubis - and growled when it kept her from getting closer than eight or ten feet. With a disgruntled sigh, she knelt, as close as she could to him.

"Hey…" she said, her heart cracking in half.

"I got a question for you, if ya' don' mind," he said, his accent growing thicker in his injury. His eyes were glassy - barely focused.

"Of course. Anything." She did her best to smile.

"What's it like? Y'know. Being dead…"

That was a punch in the face. She let out a wavering breath, and shifted to sit down, cross-legged. "It doesn't hurt."

"Pah!" he said in a laugh, that made him wheeze and cough, and he groaned in pain. "Don' lie t'me, Blue…"

"I'm not," she responded. "Dying hurts. Death doesn't. What you're feeling right now, is the worst it's going to be." She looked off for a moment, trying to think of how to describe it. "It's like falling asleep. You can't put your finger on when it actually happens. You know you're falling asleep - and then suddenly, you're there."

"What'll I see? Is there an afterlife? Is there… a god?" The irishman's faith was cracking in the face of his own mortality, and it made her want to cry. But she'd be strong for him. She couldn't cry - not yet.

Gabriel, on the other hand - his head was lowered, his eyes shut, and tears were rolling down his cheeks. He made no noise - but grief had consumed him already.

"It's… it's whatever you make it to be. I think of it as a door. A threshold that you walk through. People who have near-death experiences call it a tunnel with a light at the other end - same thing. Once you step through that doorway, the cable that binds body and soul together are cut. Your soul is free to go wherever it wants to - wherever it can. I only ever make it to the door. I only ever feel people coming and going - I never make it any further than that." Veil chewed her lower lip as she thought. "As for an afterlife? Absolutely. Souls continue on, after this world. Is there a god? I think so."

"Asmodeus - if he exists, there has to be a god."

"Asmodeus has never talked to him, not personally. Only one archangel ever has - the Metatron. But Asmodus has seen the work of God. The creation of mankind, for one. So… yes. I think there is a God. Maybe he isn't exactly how you catholics paint him," she smirked. "Or her. Or it."

"I like 'her,'" Conrad said with a faint smile. "I've always liked tha' thought of god being a woman. Don' know why." He coughed, hacked, and with a moan, spit a glob of bloody mucus up onto the floor next to him. It took him a long moment to pull air into his lungs - the coughing having knocked the wind out of him. It sounded like someone trying to breathe through a straw - constricted and painful.

"Brother, you cannot die… you cannot leave me here," Gabriel muttered quietly.

"I don' think I've got much ta say, in the matter, old friend," Conrad turned his head, twisting to the edge of his reach to look at his companion. "Oh, don't go cryin' over me, you idiot." He laughed again, and wheezed. "They're gunna send you right after me anyway." Gabriel blanched, and Conrad did his best to sigh. "Bad joke."

He was suddenly caught up in a convulsive fit of hacking - his blood-filled lungs desperately trying to expunge that which had no business being there. But it did little good, and his body slumped against the chains. He was shivering - weak - his head rolling forward.

Veil stood up, and yanked on the chain that kept her attached to the statue. "Lyon - do something!"

"I cannot," came his quiet reply. His face was one of sorrow and agony, if muted by age and his marblesque exterior.

"Then unchain me, and at least let me hold his goddamn hand."

"I am unable to do so," he replied once again, his eyes finally opening, but still not looking up from the floor at his feet. "I do not have the power to release you."

"It's alright, Blue…" Conrad said quietly. But he could not raise his head, could not even look at her. "I'm not 'fraid…"

Veil dropped to her knees again, wishing she could get closer - wishing she could hold him as he died. "It's peaceful. You won't feel any pain there, I promise… All of this just goes away."

"Thank ye'..." Conrad's voice was barely audible. "Gabey boy…" he wheezed. "G'bye… fer now..."

His head fell forward the rest of the way - limp, as his body went still. Gabriel let out a sob, and was now praying in latin, his eyes squeezed tight, even as tears streamed down his cheeks.

Veil let out a howl of anger - and yanked at the chain, ripping at it until her hands went numb. It didn't do any good, except the pain let her vent some of her grief and rage. She had become so distracted with trying to wrench the chain loose from the statue, she had not seen Lyon move to unchain Conrad, lying his body down on the ground. He was on one knee next to him, and was crossing the air over the corpse, and he himself was muttering in latin.

Last rites. The vampire was giving Conrad his last rites…

That crumbled her anger into dust, and she slumped to the ground, her back against the base of the statue, and watched as the ancient vampire tended to the body that had so recently been her unexpected friend.

"He will need to be cremated," Lyon spoke quietly to Gabriel - whose sobs had broken off into tired silence. "Lest he be corrupted and raised."

Gabriel nodded once, to weak and tired to speak.

Lyon took the body into his arms, and stood - carrying the weight as if the weight were nothing. In a swirl of darkness, that dissipated like mist - they were gone.

Veil put her head in her hands - and only then, let the tears come.

* * *

Gabriel and Veil sat in silence for hours - neither wanting to speak. Neither really knowing what to say to the other. Each mourning the loss of Conrad. For her, she didn't want to pretend to understand what the Italian priest was going through. He was now sitting with his head back against the base of his own statue, looking off, sightlessly at the wall.

Finally, it was he who broke the silence. "I am next."

Veil looked up, and didn't know what to say. "I-" she said, before stopping, realizing she had nothing to follow.

"Good." Gabriel turned to look at her - his expression still hazy from his concussion. "I hope it comes quickly."

"You don't know what you're saying," Veil said with a shake of her head. "You're upset, I completely understand - you're hurt. But you don't mean that."

"I cannot escape here alive," he said as he shut his eyes. His voice was flat, emotionless. "So I hope to die quickly."

"Adrian'll find us. He's looking, I'm sure he is."

"And they will kill me before that happens," he said with a brief laugh. "What is the purpose in extending this process?"

English as his second language was showing again, and she could almost hear Conrad teasing him over it. Judging by the pained flash across Gabriel's face - so could he.

Thankfully, or not, they were not allowed to sit in silence for long. Two figures emerged from the nearby doorway, that of a woman and a little girl. One she recognized, and one she didn't. The green haired vampire from before - the one who had kissed her, and probably would have done a lot more if Vlad hadn't stopped her. Her name was Elizabeth, if she remembered correctly. She had been a little dazed at the time. The vampire was holding the hand of a little blond-haired… 'girl' who maybe looked like she was six or seven years old.

"Just, great," she said with an annoyed sigh. "Go away."

The little girl - who looked like somebody had dressed a normal kid up in Japanese Lolita fashion for Halloween - looked at her with huge, hurt eyes. And, judging by the look of her, she was also a vampire. Veil knew that kind of thing had to happen - not all vampires were made with them in the prime of their lives. But shit, that… had to blow.

"Don't take it personally," the green-haired vampiress said down to the young girl. "Veil is upset. She is trapped here, and she very much wishes she was back with Adry. And her friend, one of the priests, just died."

"Oooh..." the little girl said, clutching Elizabeth's hand with both of hers, and half-hiding behind her. "She's pretty… Her hair looks like yours!"

Elizabeth smiled down at the girl - with a look of real fondness. "Go on. Go say hello. She won't hurt you." The last four words sounded both like a promise to the little girl, and as a threat - if Veil tried anything, she'd pay for it, she was certain. Or worse, Gabriel would.

The little girl took a few steps towards her, then stopped - glancing back over her shoulder at Elizabeth. "You sure…?"

"You're fine," Veil said with a sigh. She wasn't about to choke out a seven year old with the chain that kept her tethered - vampire or not.

The little girl smiled - no, she beamed - and she ran up to her, kneeling down at Veil's side, hands neatly folding in her lap. Her dress was a sea of lace and tulle that spread out around her little body. "Hello! I'm Veronika. It's nice to meet you!"

Goddamn, her life was turning into a farce. One moment, she's watching one of her friends - albeit a new one - die, and was unable to do anything about it. Next, she's dealing with a vampire in the body of a seven year old girl. "... Veil. You too." I guess, she added in her mind. Although she didn't see any point in insulting the little girl to her face.

"You're Adry's friend!" Veronika piped cheerfully.

"Adry? Oh. Adrian. Yeah, I am." Veil pocketed that nickname in her mind for later - if there ever was a later.

"I can see why he likes you! You're very pretty." The little girl reached out to touch her hair, and she let it happen. She picked up a tendril of blue and twirled it curiously, watching it glint in the light, before putting it back down.

"Thanks," Veil said with a slight laugh, more at how ridiculous this was all becoming. What the fuck was happening?

Veronika's voice got quiet as she leaned forward and whispered. "Beth says you can't die. Is that true?"

"I'm afraid so," Veil responded, smirking at the girl. "'Beth' should know. She's seen it happen. She also tried once herself."

Veronika gasped and looked back at the green-haired lady. "Beth! Why would you hurt Adry's friend?"

"Because Grandpapa told me to," Elizabeth walked towards Gabriel, and stood at his feet, looking down at the priest thoughtfully. Veil very much didn't like the tone of her voice, and her sudden attention to the Italian priest. Gabriel was simply staring her down flatly - uninterested and unimpressed at her presence. "But Grandpapa told everyone to be nice to her. He only let us feed."

'Grandpapa' was Dracula, she assumed. Obviously it wasn't a literal title, or else Adrian had a lot of explaining to do.

"Oh, well," Veronika looked back at Veil and smiled. "That's not too bad. Especially if you can't die," she said in perfect child logic, and shrugged. "Adry is very worried about you. I told him we'd make sure you were okay, since Grandpapa won't let him come here."

"Thanks," she said again. "I'm sure that meant a lot to him." Why was she sitting here, making nice with a vampiric little girl? Conrad was dead. Gabriel was dying - or at least was about to be. Adrian and Alistair - god help her, Alistair - were her only hopes of getting out of this mess. And yet, the shining blueish-purple eyes of the little vampire were… innocent. She didn't have the heart to be rude to her.

Veronika smiled brightly. "I'm sorry about your priest friends. They are human, though. That's what happens to them.

The way she said it was a jarring juxtaposition to the words themselves. The little girl had also spoke in a plural. She stood up, before Veil could respond - and bounded away from her up to Elizabeth's side. Veil hadn't noticed the green-haired woman had moved to kneel next to Gabriel, and was stroking his chestnut hair gently. Her eyes were now a shining crimson - and she knew what that meant. Bloodlust.

The little girl knelt at his other side, smiling at him. "Hello!" she greeted the priest brightly.

Gabriel didn't respond, but tried to pull his head away from Elizabeth - but chained as he was, it was useless.

"Don't," Veil said quietly - moving to stand up from the base of the statue. "Please, don't…"

"We must, on the orders of Dracula," Elizabeth said back to her. "He is our Master. We cannot disobey him - even if we wanted to." The vampire snapped one of the chains around Gabriel like it was made of paper - freeing one of his arms. "We are to give him the choice to join us, or die."

"I fear not death, monster." Gabriel snarled angrily into her face, and spat at her. Elizabeth recoiled and wiped the spittle off of her face.

"Eeewwwuh!" Veronika said with her nose scrunched up. "Meanie!"

"He's afraid, that's all." Elizabeth said with a smile down to the little girl. "Go ahead. You may have his neck."

"Ooh, thank you!" Veronika crawled onto Gabriel's lap, and smiled up at him. "Are you sure? You could come play with me."

"I would far rather greet my brother at the gates of heaven, abomination," Gabriel snarled. "Do the deed, if you must - but trouble me no longer."

Veronika pouted. "You're no fun."

"As you wish," Elizabeth said, as she pulled his wrist up towards her face.

"Stop," Veil begged, as she reached the end of the chain again - unable to move forward any further. Unable to stop them. They were going to make her watch as another one of them died. That had been Dracula's promise, after all.

"It's fine, Veil," Gabriel said as the little girl pushed his head to the side and pulled the black collar of his coat away to bare his skin. He let out a sharp cry and thrashed once as she sank her tiny fangs into his neck.

"Be… be strong, my friend," he said quietly, and then let out another hiss of pain as Elizabeth's fangs dug deep into his wrist. He moaned, as his mind was overtaken by the pleasure of being fed from.

Veil slumped to her knees, hopelessness making her hands tremble. She clenched them into fists to keep them from shaking any more. She couldn't watch - but she was forced to listen, as the two vampires drank.

Gabriel's pained, and pleasured noises were fading away as he was bled dry by two hungry creatures. When she heard movement, she finally looked up. Veronika had crawled off Gabriel's lap - and was cleaning her face with a handkerchief she had pulled from her pocket.

The priest was pale - his head rolled to one side, eyes hazy now with pleasure, even as he was drifting towards death. Elizabeth pulled her lips from his wrist, and let her tongue languidly trace the wounds she had made there. She reached forward to stroke his cheek. "You can still change your mind. You can still join us," she said quietly, seductively, leaning forward to kiss him.

But Gabriel retained enough of himself to flinch and pull away from her kiss. He didn't have enough strength to speak - but his lips moved. Whatever he had been trying to say was unimportant - his refusal was clear enough. Elizabeth sighed, and shrugged idly. "Ah well. Have it your way." She leaned her head into his neck, and sunk her teeth into his skin. Gabriel twitched, his free hand grasping at the chains that kept him restrained. Another spasm, and his hand fell limp to his side.

Veil lowered her head, putting her hand over her eyes. He was gone. "Don't be sad," the tiny voice of Veronika said from next to her. "He didn't hurt."

She looked up at the little girl, and saw a smile on her face. Her blue eyes were now a deep crimson - as her bloodlust faded. "It didn't hurt him. I promise! Grandpapa said he had to die… He wanted to do something worse. He wanted to feed him to one of the icky plants in the garden," Veronika shuddered. "But Elizabeth asked him if he would let us do it instead, and he said okay!" she chimed brightly.

The little girl really honestly believed that she had done Veil some great favor. That killing the priest 'gently' was somehow an act of kindness. Well, kinder than being eaten by a plant, she was sure. Veil knew what it was like to die to a vampire, and they hadn't lied. It was many things, but it was painless. If given the option, wouldn't she herself pick that, over whatever other horrors the castle could concoct?

"I can't thank you for killing my friend," Veil said quietly to the girl. "I just can't."

"It's okay," Veronika said with the same bright smile. Veil nearly fell over in shock as the little girl hugged her, throwing her arms around her neck. "I'm sorry they had to die. Grandpapa can be really mean sometimes." Before she could react, the little girl was off of her once again - and bounding back to Elizabeth, who had stood up from the corpse of Gabriel.

"Come - let us go and leave her be," Elizabeth said down to the little girl, who happily clung to her hand again.

Veil stood up, and walked away from them - walking to the far side of the statue, and slumping down to the ground, not wanting to watch them leave. And not wanting to look at Gabriel's dead body.

She was alone.

Veil clenched her hands into fists and glared at the far wall.

Dracula was going to pay for this.

* * *

Adrian could smell the fear on Richard, in the form of his blood racing through his veins. Richard was succumbing to the looming spectre of death that could come in any form, at any time. Especially with the news that Gabriel and Conrad were now likely dead, themselves.

He would mourn the priests, after a fashion. But he had lost enough companions in his days that he had shared far more kinship with, than those two. They were formidable fighters, and their battle would be all the harder in the days to come.

If there would be a battle at all. If his father did not instead simply wear them down with constant and tiring battles, and fruitless searching.

As he pushed his way through a large wooden gate, Adrian was met with an unusual sight.

The aftermath of a battle. Unusual in that for once, it was a battle of which he was not an immediate participant.

Silver spears - long, thin, and terrible in their sharpness - were scattered around like giant pins in a cushion. Monstrous bodies, like that of an insect collector's prized possessions, were skewered to every surface. To the walls, to the floor - to the columns and anywhere they had been caught. It reminded him so very much of his father's old habits of impaling his victims for display.

But instead, standing in the center of the room, carefully rolling down his sleeves and rebuttoning them - was the tall and picturesque form of Alistair. He looked up at them, his chin length black hair obscuring his features slightly. He smiled in greeting. "Ah! A friendly face at last. Or, at least, as much as this place can muster." Disappointment crossed his features briefly. "Veil is not with you?"

"No. She has been captured by Dracula," Adrian spoke - also disappointed. "He has taken the lives of the priests. I do not know what he portends for her."

Alistair's blue and green eyes narrowed dangerously. In jealousy - in hatred. "If he has laid a hand upon her, he will suffer for it."

Adrian turned to leave the room - as it was a dead end, it seemed. "Come. Let us not waste more time."

When he caught sight of Richard - the look on the man's face was one of… relief. He was looking at Alistair with the expression of a man at first light, when he thought he would never see the day. It concerned him - but he consoled himself with the thought that yes, the archangel's presence made their predicament less dire. If he could be trusted.

Adrian was never fond of the word 'if.'

* * *

Veil must have fallen asleep again - really for lack of anything better to do - because she was once again woken up by something. This time, it wasn't a voice - it was the feeling of hand curling under the collar around her neck, and hefting her up to standing.

She made a startled 'gack!' noise as her world was tossed about for a second. She was pressed, back against the base of the statue, by a hand at her shoulder. When she looked up - it was into dark crimson eyes. Dracula.

"Oh hey, fuckface." She 'greeted' the vampire king angrily. She tried to push his hand off of her shoulder, but it merely dug in harder, and she winced in pain as she remembered exactly how strong he was - how easily he could just snap her arm off.

"That is a new one for me, I will give you that much credit." He growled humorlessly, his fangs bared. The hand that had grabbed her by the collar shifted, instead to wrap around her throat. "You have now witnessed two of your companions laid low by my machinations. Your dear friend Richard is to die next. I ask you again to reconsider."

"Join you against Alistair, or they die." Veil laughed, even through the pain of his hand around her throat. "You're going to kill them all anyway. Fuck you."

Dracula sneered. "Very well. I will take that as a 'no.'"

Veil could barely even muster a single noise as his hands shifted suddenly - grasping her head between his palms, and twisting her head around to the side. She could barely even register having heard a noise as her neck snapped, and her world went dark.

* * *

Another death, another goddamn floor. Again. This was seriously getting old. This time, there was grass under her. That, plus the movement of the air was a dead giveaway that she was now outdoors. Lying on her back, she was looking up at the hazy, blood red sky, and the crimson moon.

"You are awake," a voice said from near her. Lyon, the priest. He was sitting on a stone bench, a chain in his hand. The same chain that ran to the collar around her neck. "I am almost sad for it."

"Nice to see you too, asswipe," she groaned and sat up. Veil shivered, and looked around her. They were in a… graveyard. A heavily packed one. Populated entirely out of high-reaching, elegantly carved statues, instead of any normal gravestones. This was a cemetery for the rich and powerful - likely Dracula's own inner circle.

Crypts dotted the walls - their ornate, iron wrought gates of twisted filigree and vines, roses and thorns. Stained glass windows dotted the mausoleum structures. It was a kind of lavish and expensive approach to death that hadn't been seen in society for a century or more.

"You misunderstand. It is not for your company that I hold disdain. It is for this action which I have now been bade to perform."

"What… action?" she asked, wondering if she really wanted the answer. She rubbed her neck from the memory of having her spine snapped by the vampire king. It didn't hurt anymore - but the ghost of the pain lingered.

Lyon simply pointed.

They weren't alone.

A figure stood amongst the statues, a silhouette just as dramatic as the weeping angels or creatures reaching out towards the sky. His back was to them, as he looked off into one particular crypt, whose iron door was pulled open. The shadow against the burning torches inside cast dramatic shapes against the grass at his feet. Dracula.

"Why're we here?" she asked, fully knowing the answer wasn't going to be anything good. "Cake? Drinks? Cake and drinks?"

It was Dracula who answered. Lyon simply hung his head. "You have one last chance." That was all he said, and all he needed to say. The darkness in his voice was palpable - like she could reach out and touch it. Either she joined him against Asmodeus - 'or else.' And the 'or else' had something to do with the graveyard they were now in.

"Or what…?"

"If you will not assist in aiding me against the threat to my throne - by the same creature you claim to loathe so deeply… then I will ensure that you will not meddle in my affairs."

He couldn't kill her. So what was he going to do instead?

"I hate Alistair. I really, really do. But you're trying to wipe out humanity. And even if I said yes, and you pulled your armies back - and we stopped Alistair. What then? What would you do after that?"

"The same as ever I seek."

Veil sighed and lowered her head, her blue hair falling along her cheeks. She didn't know what he meant. "I hate riddles. Either tell me what you mean, or I'll assume the worst." He was silent, keeping his back to her. He didn't give her anything more to work with. "So no. I won't."

"Very well."

He whirled around, his cape traveling with the motion. He walked up to her, and reaching down, grabbed her collar, and used it to yank her up to her feet. She yelped as he pulled her up like she weighed nothing. The chain that attached to her collar fell away to the ground at his command. He began to pull her towards the crypt with the open door - and for the first time, fear gripped her.

What was he going to do?!

"Wait-" she said, her hands on his wrist, trying to pull herself free from him. But he dragged her with such force and inarguable speed that she was nearly tripping over herself simply to stay standing. "Wait!"

But it was too late to argue. Too late to change her mind. As he pulled her into the crypt, she saw an open casket before her. It was solid steel, lined with shimmering black silk and matching cushions. The lid was hinged - and she saw brackets on the lip that looked like heavy, twisting locks. Meant to keep its contents trapped inside.

The crypt was made of white marble, and arched gothic windows with quatrefoils decorating the tops. It looked like a small church inside. The left and the right wall were a grid of rectangles - wider than they were tall, and a small brass placard was bolted to the surface of each shape, naming its inhabitant.

One square was opened. Vacant, a black gaping maw in the smooth marble surface. The stone covering for the empty hole sat on the ground - unmarked. Ready to be pushed back in place, once the empty hole had its passenger.

Oh God.

Oh God.

"No, please-" she cried, clawing at the hand around the collar at her throat. "Please!"

He threw her into the casket, and she barely had enough time to roll onto her back before she watched the lid close down over her. "No!" she screamed. Veil punched the lid - kicked at it - but it wouldn't budge.

The heavy locks twisted into place. One after to the other with a heavy click.

She screamed.

It was pitch black - a perfect darkness. Devoid of any light. The air smelled of perfumed silk. She punched and kicked at the lid, as best as she could - it was only a few inches over her. She felt the coffin jostle as it was lifted - and heard the sound of metal scraping on stone as she felt the whole casket… slide.

"No! No! Please!" she begged and screamed.

They were putting her into that gaping black hole in the wall - the slot in the mausoleum wall. She screamed again, begging - crying for help. Punching and struggling, clawing at the lid. The sound of a stone cap being put into place was barely audible under her shouting.

Her screams were making her ears ring. It was so loud in such a tight space. She broke off into sobs. They were gone. Lyon and Dracula were gone. They had put her in a coffin, and buried her in a crypt.

She began yanking at the collar around her neck, desperately trying to remove it so she could phase into the spirit world and escape. But as she pulled, her body wracked with pain and she screamed again as it felt like she was being electrocuted - her body spasming in pain, thrashing.

It was only then, in the darkness, that she felt the tears on her face. Tears of pain, of fear. It was only then, that she felt the air become thick in the small space.

Things were about to go from bad to worse as she realized her predicament… was airtight. Even if the casket wasn't perfectly sealed, the stone slab over the hole in the crypt would do the deed. And there was no one around to hear her screams for help. No one who cared, anyway.

Veil tried to keep her breaths even - but it was a hard task with panic taking her over. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she felt the air in the tight space grow less and less. Each breath brought her closer to it. Each pull of air felt harder than the last. Each gasp pulled her away from one darkness, and into another.

It was impossible to tell when it happened… impossible to know when exactly the air ran out. It was hard to know exactly when she died. It was just like what she told Conrad. That death was like falling asleep. It was slow, gentle lull into nothingness. Especially one like this.

This was a slow death.

A death by inches.


	18. Chapter 18

It was the perfectly still, jet black liquid, once more. The place she had been so frequently as of late. The place just before true death. But something was different now. What was it? Oh. She had been here for some time, hadn't she. Floating in the cold - the stillness.

Floating in the pain.

The only motion was the sensation of the coming and going of the souls around her. Arriving to this place from life, and traveling on through death and into the ever-after. Each in their turn, arriving, opening the door and going through.

But not her. Here, she'd forever be turned away. Sent back to the world of the living. But this time… she stayed. She didn't return. But why?

Memory came to her in a flash. The screaming - the clawing at black fabric in the darkness. The sound of metal, sliding on marble.

She had been buried alive.

Her mind pushed away from the horror of what had happened to her - of where she truly was. Instead, it tried to focus on the place she had now found herself. But it wasn't any more forgiving. It may in fact have been worse.

The cold lifelessness of this place had long since seeped into her. It had long since begun to hurt. It was a numbness that ached. But there was no leaving, was there? Her body couldn't come back to life, if she had no air. So she was trapped there, in that casket… and trapped here, stuck at the door before death.

The pain was endless and overwhelming. She couldn't even cry out. Her body was trapped on the edge of a knife, her soul trapped halfway between the veil of life and death, unable to go in either direction.

Unable to live, unable to die.

* * *

Adrian had taken up the lead in their small pack - the three of them, searching the halls of the castle for Veil, or for Dracula. All memory of the layout of the castle had long since proved to be useless. Richard stayed close behind him - and Alistair followed in the back. The archangel was silent, observant - walking along like a ghost, his hands tucked into his pockets like he was only on an evening stroll. A shadow skating by on the wall from some overhead bird of prey.

The unlikely trio entered a massive courtyard - soaring stone on all four sides. The center was dominated by a two story fountain. One of angels and demons, caught in an epic battle, frozen in time. Spears and swords, twisted in limbs and wings both leathery and feathered.

As they walked through the courtyard to the other side, he heard a small 'huhn' from behind him. He paused, and turned - to see Alistair having stopped at the foot of the massive sculpture, surveying it with his hands folded now behind his back. He looked like a man at an art gallery.

"It really was nothing like this. A romanticised view, is all this sculpture represents." Alistair tilted his head just barely to one side. "Blood against blood - brother against brother. The death of a family… it should never be so glorified." Bright blue-green eyes met his, with no small amount of sarcastic enjoyment. "Don't you think?"

Adrian sighed at the comment and turned to keep walking without a response. He heard the archangel laugh quietly behind him. Footsteps behind him told him the professor and Alistair were still following.

"What Selina sees in you, I do not know," Alistair said idly. "You certainly are not a conversationalist. Nor terribly genial. How ever did you two come to know each other well enough for her to fall for you? Or indeed, was she the leader in the waltz? I imagine courting you must be akin to romancing a stone wall. Indeed, it is her skill to which I credit your little starcrossed tryst."

"If you wish to goad me into a fight, you needn't run your mouth to do so," Adrian replied curtly. "You merely need to ask."

"My boy, I am merely wondering how my little firebrand became so enamored of someone so… utterly vacuous. Nay, I suspect even vapid at the heart of it all. It is hardly like her."

"You do not know her," Adrian retorted simply.

Alistair let out a long, regretful sigh. "More and more, that seems to be true."

"I hate to interrupt," Richard said shyly, and with great fear. "But um… Who's that?"

All three pulled to a sudden stop, as the two bickering gentlemen saw who the third had been referencing. A figure at the other end, unmistakable and foreboding. A long black cape pooled around his feet, the crimson lining resembling a puddle of blood.

Adrian drew his sword, and even while his heart sped with adrenaline - he was glad. Glad that his wandering was over.

"Hello, father."

* * *

The still waters of that frozen, inky lake were so cold… so painfully cold. It stung and ached at once, her mind screaming for any reprieve. Any break from the agony. It was never-ending, never ceasing. It seared away at her mind. She had never been here this long.

Her body couldn't live, in that airless coffin in the crypt.

"Let me die," she begged the darkness. "Please…"

"I can't. Even if I wanted to, I am unable to do so. Not now, not ever…" Azrael's answer confirmed her nightmare. He hadn't just taken her death away once - it was a permanent condition.

She wondered if she'd be allowed to die when the sun burned the earth away.

This was what Azrael was talking about when he had come to see her at the statue. The torture he knew Dracula would do to her. "You knew he'd do this."

"Believe me, there were worse options..."

That made her laugh - a hopeless, empty laugh. This hurt so badly. It threatened to burn her mind away - to leave her an empty husk. What had Dracula suggested that could have been so much worse? Rape? Torture? "How long will he leave me here..?"

"A day? A millennium? None but he knows the answer."

She didn't know how much more she could take - but what happened when she broke? When she had too much? She couldn't die, couldn't pass out - she could only continue to suffer. Continue to burn in the stillness and the cold. Veil wanted to cry. To scream. To swear, or threaten, or do anything. But it all just balled up into one pit of hopelessness. So nothing at all came out.

* * *

"Our final battle will not occur here," Dracula spoke, his dark voice carrying through the courtyard easily.

"Then why come?" Adrian asked. He saw Alistair out of the corner of his eye, step forward to stand beside him. Richard remained behind - he could hear the panicked tempo of the man's blood stampeding through his veins.

"To say that your search for your young lover… is futile. You will not find her." Vlad's voice was cold - heartless. Uncaring for what he was speaking. "You may search for a hundred years before you finally discover her - and by then, she will have surely gone quite mad." He smirked sadistically. "Even if you succeed in besting me, she will remain prisoner to this place - locked in agony."

"What have you done?!" Alistair snarled.

"I come to give you a simple choice. Stand down, and leave this place - and no one must perish. Stay, and I take the life of your sole surviving human before the clock strikes midnight before destroying the rest of you - one by one."

Adrian stepped towards Vlad, sword still drawn at the ready. "You send your armies to plague the land - you torture the daughter of your oldest 'friend' - but you have yet to say why. What mean you by all of this?!" His heart wept for Veil - for whatever torture she had been set to endure alone. "This cruelty is unlike even you, father."

A silver spear - like the ones he saw pinning the corpses to the walls when he had found Alistair - whizzed past him, close to his shoulder. It seemed the archdemon could summon them at will. It was meant to kill the vampire king - who merely stepped out of the way - a blur of motion as he easily dodged the strike. The spear embedded into the stone behind him.

"Release her immediately," Alistair threatened. He stalked towards Dracula. "Or fight us now! You are nothing but a trifling mortal at your heart - with the conceit to think himself something greater. And like them all, you are a coward."

"Speak not to me of conceit," Vlad chuckled once, his lips curling into a sneer. "Your arrogance could pale all of history. As for cowardice? My desire to avoid an altercation has little to do with you. I merely wish to avoid murdering my son. If I can avoid such an outcome, I will. As a father yourself, you should understand…" Vlad was pointedly mocking Alistair's bizarre relationship with Veil.

Alistair dashed towards vlad - intending on tearing him to pieces. But Vlad simply disappeared - having predicted the attack. Alistair snarled in fury, his form retaking that of a human. He whirled, waiting for the vampire to show himself. Vlad did not reappear - although his voice could be heard as though he had.

"You have one hour to make your choice."

* * *

It was all a blur, freezing in this burning, searing cold. Had she been here for two hours? Two years? Two centuries? Was she even here at all? She didn't know. Everything ran together like ink in the rain.

Veil reached her hand out - at least, she thought she did. "Please, somebody… anybody…" she begged into the darkness. Begging for help. Begging for someone to take her away from the constant pain, the feeling of being torn in two directions. Of balancing on the edge of a knife.

A hand wrapped around hers, and she was pulled forward. Pulled away.

It was another place and another time, all at once. Like the flick of a lightswitch. Like her reality just simply changed. The pain faded like a wisp on the wind, and she blinked as if out of a daydream.

The house she lived in was a beautiful one - a true Beacon Hill brownstone, overlooking the public gardens and the Boston Common. She was standing on the balcony of the fifth floor - the only floor with a modest little walk-out, and she watched the couples and groups stroll through the early evening air - the world still ablaze in Autumn colors in the setting sun.

It would have been relaxing - if her stomach hadn't been twisting into knots. Knots of fear - excitement - trepidation and adrenaline. As if she were about to walk on stage in front of the entire crowd of the opera house. In her underwear.

The reason being?

Tonight was the night… she met him.

Asmodeus. A King in Hell. The fallen archangel - the savior of mankind. And her… her betrothed.

How could she be worthy of someone like that? Selina was special. She knew that - she had known that all her 'life.' But was she really worthy? And if so, exactly how? What was she?

That was a question no one could ever answer for her. She had awoken on this earth, fully grown, fully formed. She remembered the day she woke up in the care of the people she had grown to view as family. Selina had been lying upon the floor, in pain, but not knowing why. They had come to her, clothed her, cared for her. She could speak English, French, German… and even more curiously - Enochian. The language of the angels.

No one in her family could tell her who, or what, she was. She appeared in this world, simply as she was - with full command of her faculties, and not as a child. So, she must have existed prior to this. It must be a form of amnesia - a simple forgetting of whoever, or whatever, she was.

There was no other explanation.

Asmodeus knew - that's what they told her. Asmodeus was her guardian, her keeper, and her betrothed. She was to wed him on the thirtieth anniversary of her awakening. It was, this evening, her twenty-fifth. Not that it mattered, as she didn't age. But, numbers were important, and it was far beyond her to question his wisdom.

Was she an ancient goddess of old, taken physical form? An angel, cast from heaven, and caught in his arms? Either answer was… romantic. Fitting for a storybook, not real life.

Selina had received letters from Asmodeus over her twenty-five years. Letters saying that he could not see her in person - not yet. Not until she was ready, lest he influence her decision to wed him unduly.

He would leave notes upon her pillow - folded neatly, with beautiful, if out-dated script spelling her name upon it with a quill pen. Letters that poured out his love for her, his dedication to her safety and her very being - and yet said that he wished her to 'acclimate' to this mortal world, free of him.

But tonight, all that changed. Tonight, they met.

It was for that reason, that her heart was lodged into her throat. That every time she heard the door click open behind her, she would whirl about in eagerness and terror both - and would let out a wavering breath as it was merely one of the servants, or one of her family members coming to check on her.

It became so frequent, that after the tenth time thinking the sound of the door heralded Asmodeus, she stopped turning around. The servants were busy bustling in and out to set the dinnerware for her introduction to Asmodeus. She corrected herself - to Alistair, as he preferred to be called in his mortal form.

She fussed with a loose tendril of hair, curling it around her finger and then tucking it behind her ear with a sigh. Antsy, nervous and anxious all at once.

Selina leaned on the wrought iron railing, and smiled down at a couple walking along the sidewalk underneath her. Arm-in-arm, they were clearly young lovers. They had no inkling of her existence on the balcony over them - they were so wrapt up in each other. Blind to the rest of the world, only interested in the blazing glory of the others presence.

She felt like a princess in a tower. And Alistair, her knight. She hoped again that she wouldn't disappoint him. That thought clouded over her mind and every thought that went with it.

The door clicked open once more, and she ignored it. It wasn't until the sound of the heels of a gentleman's shoes approached her - furtive and cautious - that she realized something was different. That was not the sound of a servant's footsteps. Theirs were hurried, rushing - eager to get in, and out, and be done.

She turned as the source of the sound had walked through the open french doors and onto the balcony with her. Her heart, which had been lodged in her throat, was now well and truly up by her ears instead.

By god, he was… gorgeous. Jet black hair reaching his chin - features like marble. Sparkling, multicolored eyes of green and blue and everywhere in between. He stood before her - and towered over her by nearly eight or nine inches. Dressed entirely in black - which would have been odd, had it not… suited him so flawlessly. He was darkness incarnate. And in that one moment, she was in love.

"By all the gods in all the heavens and hells," he said, his deep, velvet voice faint - his features struck in awe as if to mirror her own. As if he beheld some great wonder. Her..? No. It couldn't be. Alistair stepped towards her - graceful as some great African animal in a zoo - and dropped to one knee before her.

He… he was kneeling to her?

"My dearest lady..." he held out his hand to her. "I am Alistair Solomon. I am Asmodeus. And I am at your service…"

Her hand was in his before she even realized she had moved. It was so instinctual - so second-nature, her embrace of him. Her embrace of everything he was. The feeling of his hand against hers made her tremble, and she watched him with wide eyes. "Master… I-"

"No," he said as he stood, his hand closing around hers, and rose up from the ground. He took a small step towards her. "I am not your Master. Not in this moment, or any before, nor shall I ever be…. I am, to you, simply your devoted Alistair."

He took another step towards her, slowly closing the distance between them.

"I… I am Selina."

"I know," he said with a faint smile. His hand trailed gently along her chin - reverently touching her, as if she were some delicate painting. "And you are perfect."

It was then, that he kissed her. And her soul felt like it had sprung wings and flown for the first time.

Too bad it had all been a lie.

Thirty years, he had let her wonder and built her up to believe she was some archangel herself - or maybe an ancient goddess from another land, in physical form. Thirty years, she believed his fairytale. Believed his yarn about how they were clandestined. How they were meant to be.

Of course they were 'meant to be.' He scripted the whole damn thing.

Veil forced herself out of that saccharine, cloying memory. Fuck, being stuck in that icy pool pond from hell was better than reliving her naivety. Reliving when she had the conceit to think that she was some kind of 'greater being' stuck on this planet.

Suddenly, she stood on the sidewalk on a city street. She recognized it on sight - New York in the early 30's had been absolutely amazing. Her evening gown was made special for her - to match the fashion of the time, but sans the very low cut line in the back.. Showing off the circular, enchanted marks that ran down her spine wouldn't really be terribly acceptable. Luckily, long opera gloves were very much in fashion, so the marks on her forearms were much easier to conceal.

Selina was walking next to Alistair - her hand tucked into his arm. New York was 'the place to be' in those times, and it showed. The streets were abuzz with action. People were bustling here and there and generally just enjoying themselves, even in the rain. She was standing close to the archangel as he held an umbrella over her to protect her from getting drenched. He was less concerned for himself. The wet surface of the sidewalk shone in the streetlamps, reflecting every color and flash of movement.

It was the era between transportation dominance - where both horse-drawn carriages and automobiles shared the roadways. It made for an interesting mix of the clatter of hooves and the creak of a wood wheel, accented with the loudness of gas engines and the occasional beep of a horn.

Life was simple. For her, for the country, for the world - it was a more innocent era. Debauchery ran wild, for sure - but in the way a freshman in college goes nuts with the first taste of freedom. It was an immature kind of wildness, and it was heady and addictive.

She was overwhelmed by nostalgia - by dejavu. But how? Had this happened before? Had it happened at all? She missed this. How could she miss it if it hadn't already happened? Shaking her head, she returned to the moment - or, she thought she did. They had just attended a symphony, and Alistair had a warm smile on his face as he hummed one of the overtures from the evening. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Very much so, thank you," she smiled up at him.

"We should get you inside before you become well and truly soaked," he said, his face warm and looking at her adoringly, if he was damp from the rain. "Your dress, however gorgeous, seems to love puddles," he said with a small laugh.

Sure enough, her silk dress had become dark around the bottom hem where the rainwater had seeped up into it.

"I don't mind it," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she walked. "Although I am so very jealous of you who are able to wear pants as formal wear."

"I do not envy you, that is true."

Who was she talking to, now? Was she really standing here with the fallen archangel? Or was this a dream? Or a memory?

"Alistair?"

"Yes, my love?" he said, turning to face her. He held the umbrella over them both, smiling down at her gently.

"Are we… really here?" she asked curiously, looking around her. She was in the castle - buried alive in a crypt. Wasn't she? Or was this real? This felt real.

"What an odd question," he said curiously down at her, smiling in bemusement. "Of course we are." 

"Something just feels… strange."

"You asked for help, and so I came," he replied, his smile fading from amusement into a slight sadness. He reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, and she let her eyes flutter shut for a moment at the embrace. "I am comforted that in your hour of need, you called for me."

Veil tried to remember - no. Selina, wasn't that her name? No. It was Veil - but not here, maybe. Christ, everything was confusing all of a sudden. She winced and put her gloved hand to her forehead, and felt the seeping, endless pain of the place between life and death. As she did, her mind tried to force it away again and back into this place, this reality. Standing in the rain with Alistair. It was safer. There was no pain here.

He gently took her hand in his, pulling it away from her face, and gently pulled her closer towards him.

"I think I'm losing my mind. What's happening to me?" she asked weakly.

"You are inside your own memories, in a way. Focus on this - focus on me. If you dwell on the pain, you cannot survive it." He pulled her into an embrace, winding his one arm around her and placing a kiss to the top of her head. His other hand still held the umbrella aloft.

"This is wrong…"

Alistair sighed, and his hand shifted, lifting her chin to look up at him. "Delay your grudge for a time. At least until I can free you of your torment."

"How are you even here?" she asked as her mind wrapped around the 'fact' that he was in two places at once - in her mind, and she presumed still in the physical world.

"Archangels can be many places at once. Such as Azrael does, to do what he must. You and I are bound - now and for all of eternity. When I heard your call… I came." He smiled - it was a forlorn, self-deprecating expression. "I love you, Selina. I will always answer your call. Even if you are to spurn me, the moment I set you free."

"Damn it all!" she pushed away from him, and stepped back into the rain. In that moment, they were no longer in her memory - instead, they were… nowhere. A gaping black world of nothingness. But it meant nothing to her - the memory had only been as real as a painting, anyway. "Stop it!"

"Stop what…?"

"This! These lies. This bullshit! This god-awful, storybook nonsense."

Alistair sighed, and lowered his head. The umbrella was gone, along with the rest of the false reality. He looked somehow in his element, clad in all black, surrounded by darkness.

He sunk to his knees, his head still hung low. "I cannot win with you. I strive to do whatever I can, to win you - and you refuse all I do as lies. Do you find me so vile?"

"Stop lying to me, Asmodeus - and maybe we can start there."

"I am not lying!" he roared, pounding his fist into the darkness that was the ground, for whatever good it did.

Veil walked up to him slowly, her voice growing soft. Part of her was sympathetic to his pain - wishing he could be human. Wishing he could be something he couldn't. "Then talk to me as yourself. Your real self. Not this shell - this thing you wish you could be. We aren't human… neither of us. Let's stop pretending for once."

Alistair stood, and as he did - his mortal form melted away from him. Although his height had not changed - he seemed to dwarf her, all the more. His hair was long and black, with only a few white strands maring its perfection. His waist wrap was torn and ancient - and dyed a deep crimson, as was the scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face, and draping down his bare chest. His wings were massive, and the kind of black that is achieved only by mixing together all the colors in a shimmering array, like that of a grackle. They seemed more like a second set of arms - complete with vicious, hideous claws - with long, taloned fingers. They were not the wings you would see on an an angel in a church.

He was grotesque. He was gorgeous.

His eyes, a flickering blue and green, met her darker gaze, as she felt herself almost want to withdraw from him. He was awe-inspiring. Veil almost gaped - this was, after all, an archangel. Fallen or not. A creature older than history.

And it showed. Time wore on him - in the faint creases by his eyes, in the dryness of his skin, as if he had been lost in a desert for many years. He had, she reminded herself. Not to mention… Hell. This was a creature who had weathered not just the sands of time on earth - but the sands of time in a place far more savage.

He reached out to touch her - and for once, she allowed it. His brow furrowed in confusion, in pain, as he let his fingers wander along her cheek. "My Selina… My Veil…"

Asmodeus used her 'new' name for the first time, and she kept a sudden burst of tears at bay. And honestly, she couldn't have explained why they had sprung up in the first place. The tragedy of it all, perhaps.

"I prefer you like this," she said with a weak laugh. "It's… honest. It's… you don't need to know, how… breathtaking you are."

"Hmhn," he said with a single half-laugh, and shut his eyes, his hand lowering to his side. He spread his wings out behind him - the muscles of his chest and back rippling with the expanse of dark feathers. It was a stretch - flexing them as if he had not done it in some time. He let them fold against his back slowly. Something in him, seemed to accept this. "Perhaps."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" he said, curiously - his brow creasing again.

"That I don't… I don't trust you," she said, stopping before saying the words 'I don't love you.' She didn't know if that was honestly true or not. It was all a blur - it was all so confusing. She knew she loved Adrian, that much was clear - that was a burning fire in the darkness. But Asmodeus… was far more complicated. Either way, she didn't trust him. And she could not be with him. "That I can't forgive you. Not yet."

"I am a patient man," he said spitefully at himself. "And I will wait."

"See," she said, shaking her head. "That's what I don't believe. I know you better than that - you aren't patient. And you don't share. You really are honestly going to let me and Adrian just… wander off together? Assuming we both live? I don't buy it." She stepped towards him, which surprised him - he straightened up, looking down at her almost concerned as to what she was about to do. "You're Asmodeus. A King in Hell. The 'most evil of all the fallen,'" she used air quotes about that bit, which made him chuckle. "If I saw some little punk running off with the thing I worked so hard to make… I'd be pissed."

He reached out to her - letting his hands fall on either side of her neck, thumbs resting against her jawline. It wasn't aggressive - it was a simple embrace, and for the time being - she allowed it. His presence was keeping her away from the suffering of the cold space before death, after all.

Asmodeus ran a single thumb back and forth slowly as he watched her thoughtfully. "What good would it do for me to kill him? You would know it was I - and you would hate me all the more. What power do I have to stop this, that will not further drive you away from me? We have all eternity, my love… He will die in time. You and I, will never have such a luxury."

"You're a schemer. You're a mastermind. How do I know you haven't been pulling strings in the background? Something isn't right about all of this. Why did Vlad send out his armies, this time, of all of the opportunities he's had? Why did he imprison me? None of this makes any sense."

"Ah, my clever little thing, finding patterns in the shadows. But you are searching for answers where there are none. Dracula's machinations are his own - I know not the purpose behind his actions."

His hands slipped from her as she stepped back away from him. "That's where I don't believe you. There's more to this - I know there is."

Asmodeus shut his eyes, his brow creasing thoughtfully once more. "If I cannot find you, you may never have the luxury to find out…"

It was his turn to take a step back from her - back into the darkness. As he did, she felt the cold creep back in towards her. Her eyes went wide, in fear. "No, please…"

He unfurled his wings once more as he stepped backwards away from her - fading into the darkness. His voice was full of sorrow, even as he continued to retreat. "I must. I am sorry. This demands too much of me to continue. I will find you. I swear it."

Then, she was alone once more.

Left in the cold. And the dark. And the pain.

* * *

"Alistair."

Adrian's voice broke the archangel out of a daydream, it seemed. He snapped back to attention, his eyes gaining focus once more on his surroundings. "Ah. I was dwelling on thoughts of another time. Forgive me."

They had left the courtyard, and now found themselves in room filled, wall-to-wall, with bookshelves. It was one of the many libraries that the castle housed. After emptying it of its monstrous inhabitants, it suited as the safest place as they would find to discuss their next move.

It was during such discussion, that Alistair seemed to fade away from the conversation.

"I had, regretfully, asked your opinion," Adrian spoke, his eyes narrowed at the 'man,' half-sitting on the edge of a table, ankles crossed.

Alistair looked off thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. "I think we should go our separate ways."

"What?!" Richard exclaimed.

Alistair lifted a hand to gently silence the man. "I am capable of surviving this place on my own. As are you, Adrian. Take him back to safety, while I remain to continue the search for Selina. We cannot leave her. Nor can we condemn Richard to death."

"That renders his deal null and void," Adrian replied. "Either we all leave, or none of us do."

"I won't stay here, please - I can't… I don't want to die! Please-" Richard begged. Both Adrian and Alistair tried to silence him - but it did no good. "Don't shush me! You both… You - you're cut out for this. I'm not! I'm a goddamn history professor with a family. Veil can't die. If you leave her here, for a little while, she can't die! She'll be okay. There's nothing stopping you all from coming back after you get me out of here!"

It was the terrified rantings of a man facing down the very real likelihood that he would die soon. Adrian had seen it manifest in all manner of ways. Some, brooded. Some, found a peace in the inevitability. Others, manic. But most, went into hysterics - quite like this.

"Veil isn't going to die. She can't. I can!" Richard repeated, frantic. He was pacing back and forth, his hands finding nothing to do but twist and turn with whatever they grasped onto.

"Richard, please, calm yourself…" Alistair spoke as he stood up to his full height. He walked up to the man and put both hands on the human's shoulders. "Neither of us will let you die. You will live through this night - I vow it."

"I will not leave this place," Adrian said quietly - regretfully, to be frank. "I have a duty to perform. I will stop my father. If we leave here now, we may not have another opportunity."

Alistair turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable. "You mean to condemn him to death?"

"To save a hundred thousand innocent lives? So be it. He knew what could happen by coming anywhere near this cursed place," Adrian replied firmly. His honor was not in question here, not would he entertain such challenges to that effect.

Richard let out a moan of fear, and turned away from the archangel - and with head in hands, resumed his pacing. Alistair sighed, seeing his efforts at calming the man wasted, and instead turned to face Adrian.

"I do not wish to see our work undone - and Selina tortured. But his point to her invulnerability must be considered. Would she not wish to suffer to see her friend to safety? Would she not willingly agree to this, if she could?" Alistair sneered. "I ask you, as you seem to know her so much better than I."

Such spite would have sent a lesser man to cowering - but Adrian was finally glad for a confrontation with the archdemon. Alistair took a step towards him, meeting his challenge. "You mistake length for quality," Adrian smirked at his double entendre - Veil herself would have been quite proud at his sudden wit.

Alistair laughed - and grinned a sick, unkind smile. "I will see you, and what is left of your cursed progenitor - swept from the face of this Earth. Mark my words, half-breed."

"If you wish for a fight, demon - simply ask. I cannot stand your constant cavorting about the subject." Adrian's hand found the hilt of his sword, and he waited for Alistair to make the first move.

Alistair tisked in his throat, dismissing him like some kind of childish whelp. He was attempting to lure him into throwing the first blow. Adrian was not unaccustomed to such a tactic - indeed, it seemed to be the norm for the stoic dhampir. Trevor, Richter - friends and foes alike, all attempted to bait him to action.

It never worked then. It would not work now.

Alistair seemed annoyed by his silence, and therefore pushed the subject further. "It is decided. We will leave here. All three of us, to return the mortal to safety. Once that deed is done, I will return to find Selina. You may then do as you like."

"I will do no such thing," Adrian turned to walk away. "Go, if you wish."

"No!"

Adrian heard the sound of a gun being fired in quick succession. It was a good few moments later before he realized something was… quite wrong.

Adrian looked down at his chest - six holes had punched neatly through his chest. The wounds were seeping a deep crimson into his clothing. They would heal - should heal - but for… but for the stinging pain that he could feel at the edges of the circles.

The bullets had been blessed.

Adrian whirled to face his attacker - expecting Alistair. But no. It was Richard who had screamed - in terror, in rage. He stood, his hands shakily clutching the gun - still pulling the trigger with a quiet and insistent clicking, though he had spent his ammunition.

Alistair snatched the gun out of Richard's hands - who burst into tears, and slumped to his knees, his head in his hands, quivering in fear.

Adrian was not long before he joined him, sinking down to his knees on the floor. His wounds were not healing… He had no antidote - no potion to save him. He pressed his hand to his chest, as if to uselessly stave the bleeding. He could feel his fangs bared - and he hissed in pain.

Alistair was crouched next to him, then - looking at him with an idle amusement. "Do not worry, my poor boy… You honestly had little chance of success. Go to your grave, knowing your sad and wasted existence is over - your burden lifted. That was all you ever lived for, after all." Alistair rose, and walked from him.

Adrian could only watch, uselessly - as Alistair lifted Richard up by the arm. He gestured his hand - and a swirling gate of darkness opened up before him - ringed in lettering and symbols like those that decorated Veil. Enochian and dark magic. He looked back at Adrian and flashed him one last wink before he stepped through, half-dragging the mortal man behind him.

The floor pitched up towards him - and he only managed to land on his side, instead of his face. He groaned, rolling onto his back, hissing in pain again as the damage wreaked by the blessed bullets did their duty. If he had been a full vampire, he would have been rendered to dust in an instant. As such, his human half allowed him to suffer.

He needed blood.

None would be forthcoming.

He was dying.


	19. Chapter 19

Veil didn't figure herself for the kind of person to get voted 'most likely to go insane' in the school yearbook. All things considered, anger management problem aside - she considered herself pretty well _balanced._

And yet, here she was.

Floating in a pool of nothingness - of the burning, aching cold of the place between life and death - and she wasn't sure how much more of it she could really take.

Escape wasn't an option - so insanity was the only way out.

The only sensation she had, besides the pain - was the feeling of souls traveling to, and from, this place. Arriving from the living world, and passing through the gateway into death. It was the platform at Grand Central Station - filled with people, piling down the stairs and into the crowded subway cars.

Only she was left, sitting on the bench. Never able to follow them.

Her metaphors were getting weirder, the longer she stayed in this place - the longer she felt burned away and torn in two. She had to try and put physical form to the where of what she was. Even if it really was just only in her mind, struggling to make sense of what she was experiencing. The 'cosmic void' was too hard to grasp otherwise.

It wasn't until someone familiar passed by her, that she had anything else to dwell on besides her increasingly stretched 'hallucinations.'

He was pale - sallow and empty. Like the rest of the souls that flowed past and around him. It was death that had come to claim him, and his gaze was glassy-eyed and empty upon the train. He took a step towards it, before her hand caught his wrist.

He turned to look at her - but his eyes did not focus on her. He might as well have been a zombie. A corpse. And if he was here - that's very likely… exactly what he was.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

"Adrian..?"

* * *

 _"Traitor!"_

Lyon stood by the wall, looking down at the corpse upon the ground. His heart sunk in sadness - but it was one that he had been prepared to face. But still, he mourned for the loss of life, spent needlessly.

His master was not so well composed.

Vlad was fuming. It was though a dark cloud had come over the room - his power was almost physically palpable. The vampire king's nails were dug into his palm, and though they pierced his flesh, the elder creature made no notice or care of the damage.

Lyon had not seen him so viciously angry since the death of his wife. And it made sense… as now, he stood over the body of his son. Adrian's eyes were empty and unseeing. A pool of crimson haloed his chest, and matted his blond hair to the ground. Several bullet holes had done the deed - cursed metal, Lyon surmised.

"He will pay for this betrayal," Vlad hissed through bared fangs. Crimson eyes - nearly alight in anger, met his pale ones with a fury that almost made Lyon retreat a step. And, if the anger had been meant for him, perhaps he would have. "I will have them both dragged back here by their heels. I will make the human pay for what he has done…"

"It was the manipulation of the archdemon that spurred him," Lyon quietly pointed out.

"They shall both _pay for this!"_ Vlad howled. The room seemed to almost tremble at his anger. The castle served the master - and Dracula was want for vengeance. "That duplicitous winged cur will _suffer_ for his betrayal."

Lyon bowed his head in supplication - not wishing to draw his wrath towards him. "What would you have me do, my lord?"

Vlad cast his eyes back down to the body of his son. "... Deal with him. I will handle Asmodeus and the mortal. _Personally._ "

An explosion of fire - and Dracula was gone. Lyon walked up to the corpse, and crouched with a small, sad sigh. He reached a hand gently down, and closed the dhampir's eyes, ending their sightless gaze upon the ceiling.

"My poor boy… I am sorry," he said quietly to the man who would never hear a spoken word once more. But he paused, his hand lingering over the body, as he saw… nay - _felt_ something out of place.

Lyon had long been a bearer of the gift to see souls - living or otherwise, and to judge them by the nature of what he beheld. Many wrote off his empathetic nature to that of being a priest - but indeed, it had more to do with his ability to judge the character of another upon first sight.

And Adrian's soul… had not left his body. It was faint - a glimmer, a weak and easily overlooked glow - but it was there. How was that possible…?

Only one creature would know.

Lifting the dead man into his arms as easy as if he weighed nothing, Lyon disappeared with his new burden.

* * *

It was no longer the train station. Instead, it was some dark, grey and craggy beach. The shore of the place she envisioned was the land before the body and soul were split forever.

The rocky beach was black and filled with strange pebbles and stones that dissolved to ash if you pressed them between your fingertips. The sky was a deep, low-hanging grey. No sun or light could be seen - and yet, it glowed its sickly tone. No birds flew - no creatures scuttled about. They were alone.

The ocean was the most eerie part of this nether realm. It was entirely still. No waves - no movement - it could have been glass.

Veil was sitting on the 'beach.' With Adrian cradled in her lap. When she had taken hold of his wrist, he had collapsed to the ground. As she caught him, they had arrived here. Well, 'collapsed.' This place wasn't real. Neither of them were really here, on this beach together. This was all a visual metaphor for what was happening. It was hard for the human mind to wrap around things that they couldn't see or touch - and so she figured it was her mind, trying to do its best to understand.

The dhampir's head was resting against her, his eyes half-closed and sightless. He had not moved, not spoken, since they came here. Her hand had wrapped into his, interlacing their fingers. She refused to let him go. She would _not_ let him leave her here. She knew that the moment she slipped, he would be gone forever.

"Adrian," she tried again gently, using her other hand to brush his hair back away from his face. "Adrian, please, say something. It's me… It's Veil."

Tears welled up in her eyes, as she squeezed him tighter to her. As if that alone would make it all okay. Veil wasn't an idiot. She knew what his being here meant. She knew why he had come to this place.

Adrian 'Alucard' Tepes… was dead.

She shut her eyes tightly, and felt the tears escape, rolling down her cheeks. One of them rolled from her jaw and touched his face. It was then, and only then, that he seemed to show any sign of being present. "Veil…"

His word was whispered, broken and almost an automatic response - like a reflex. But she'd take it. "Adrian, please…" she wiped her tear off his face gently with her thumb, and kissed him. "Please…"

"He can't stay here."

Veil looked up. Azrael was standing a few paces away - his hands tucked into his long brown peacoat. He hadn't said it cruelly - but like he was speaking to a child at the grave of a beloved family pet. That it was foolish to cling to the remnants of a loved one when their time had come.

"I'm not letting him go," she glared at him - angry. But not at him. Not really. He was just doing his job, after all. No. She was angry at whoever did this. At the fact that it had happened at all.

"This is not a place meant for him. You must release him."

"Fuck off!" she said, her tears making it hard to keep her anger sounding convincing. "I'm not letting him go. I won't." She squeezed his hand tighter in hers, as if that would make any kind of difference. "You'll have to take him from me."

Azrael sighed, and lowered his head for a moment, before looking back up at her. "I cannot break your hold on him. Veil, his body is dead. He cannot return to the world of the living like you can. You are bringing him undue suffering. You are kin to this place - even as it hurts you, you know what he experiences is far worse. He cannot persist here. Please, Veil - his great burden is over. His task is done. Let him pass."

"No," she refused stoutly again.

Azrael walked closer, and knelt down on the pitch black 'sand' of the beach. His hand went to her shoulder. "He is meant for heaven, my daughter… He is meant to be with his mother, and his friends. Let him be gone from here and this pain. You know the torment he suffers. Let it be over."

She was not a cryer. She never was. But this - she cried for him, for her - for her having to choose between letting him die, or.. Or keeping him here. Why? So that he'd come back to life? How the fuck was _that_ supposed to work? She didn't have a plan. She had no idea how she was supposed to fix this. She couldn't even fix herself - still trapped in an airless coffin, unable to live or die.

Veil wept. Honest-to-god, wept. She bent her head and rested it against Adrian's, wrapping her other arm around him, holding him tighter to her. It took a long moment before she could stop her tears, and regain the ability to speak. She didn't raise her head - letting her dark blue hair mask her sorrow. "Who did this..?" she asked, her sadness turning quickly back into anger. She needed a name to put on top of her hit list.

"Richard."

"What?! _Bullshit-_ " she swore, and lifted her head to glare angrily - if likely bleary-eyed from the tears, at her 'father.' But the expression on his face made her pause before continuing. "... You're not lying."

"No. Dracula demanded Asmodeus, Richard and Adrian leave the castle - or he would take the human's life. Adrian would not be persuaded to depart, and the deal would not stand with only two of the three exiting. Richard, for fear of his life… shot Adrian with blessed silver bullets. So that Asmodeus could bring him to safety.

Veil lowered her head once more. Richard, her oldest friend - her _only_ friend - had shot Adrian. The man she loved. Veil only couldn't cry or scream, as she had nothing left. She was holding the dying soul of the man she loved - put there, by her oldest friend. This kind of sick, twisted turn of events could only be strung along by one person. "How much did Asmodeus have to do with this?"

That drew a heavy sigh out of Azrael. "He had influence."

Correction: The man that she loved, was dead at the hands of her oldest friend - inspired by the creature that made her. Veil's instinctual response was a simple one.

 _Fuck everyone._

Veil lifted her head to glare at Azrael - and said in a tone to make it clear she would not change her mind. "I won't let him go. I'll keep him here until the stars burn out if I have to."

Azrael stood, and nodded. "Very well. I will come back." And with that, he was gone. Just simply gone - blinking out of existence like he hadn't ever been there.

Veil held him close to her, keeping his hand clasped in his. "Well… aren't we just Romeo and Juliet, huh?" she said down to him quietly. "C'mon, that's a reference even you'd get…"

But Adrian did not respond. He didn't move. Just stared, emptily out into space. Even though he was here, she might as well be alone. She let her cheek rest on the top of his head.

It was then that she let the tears return.

* * *

Lyon had cleaned up Adrian's body as best he could - stripping the man of his stained clothing, dressing him in fresh garb. Rinsed the blood from his hair. It was the task of a mortician - and one he was often asked to perform. Three times in two days, in fact. The dhampir was as pale as the white sheets Lyon laid him upon, on the table in his personal study. It was the only time the pale yellow of his hair looked nearly a natural tone - when it had nothing but white to surround it. At least now, he was not stained in death and blood.

How it pained him to be in such a place of constant death. Even after all these millennia, Lyon had never become inured to the suffering. It was for that reason, he had attempted to save the lives of the priests of the 'Holy Order.'

It had been Dracula's bidding, that he be forced to witness the deaths of the priests. That he be reminded at the futility of his kindness. That his attempt to save them - to bargain with Octavian for their temporary reprieve from death - had been a useless waste. Even Veil had learned that lesson, when she took their place at the banquet hall. Instead of saving them, Lyon had been tasked to cast their remains into the infernos of the forge - to prevent their bodies from reanimating, as was so common.

But this body, he would not do such a thing. Adrian was to be interred with his mother - in the elegant crypt that sat at the center of the castle. In the same field as where Veil lay trapped - although she was interred in a different family vault.

His heart wept for them. For the first time, Adrian seemed to have found love - the rarest of the gifts that ones such as they could cherish. But, it had been taken away from him so quickly, it was an act of cruelty instead. Taken away from them both.

 _"You rang?"_ A voice said from near him. The sound was ethereal and all together far too aggrandizing in its reverberation for his liking. Lyon suspected it was all an affected scheme to ensure he was appropriately terrifying to lesser creatures. But, he kept those thoughts to himself.

Lyon lifted his head to greet the skeleton that had drifted up through the floor as though it were no more than a nuisance to him. Aggrandizing indeed - as if his countenance were not enough to serve him. The skeleton dressed in the tattered robes of an ossuary monk, and always carried aloft his vicious, intricate scythe. As if anyone around him would ever have the gall to neglect in understanding of what he represented. Once more, he held his tongue. He had called the creature here for a reason.

"I am sure you have heard," Lyon gestured to Adrian's body on the table.

"I have!" Death said with a chuckle, and floated closer to the table to observe the corpse. "Dracula is _quite_ beside himself. He has sent out many of his greatest to bring the archangel and the mortal back to the castle. I believe he intends to fetch them himself if it comes to that - can you believe?!" he cackled in amusement. "I was to follow, until you called for me. A matter of great importance, you said." Death scoffed. "I hope it was for more than sharing in your wake of yet another _dead body._ His is no more remarkable to me than any other, save for perhaps my _personal_ celebration at his passing!"

"Hm," was all he said in response as he walked around the table to the other side - putting it between him and the floating spectre. "Then you do not know why his soul has not departed?"

"I-" Death paused, caught off guard. "Bury him with the rest. She'll give up - sooner or later."

"'She?'" Lyon asked thoughtfully, raising his eyebrow. "So your daughter _does_ have something to do with this, after all."

Death growled, and one of his bony hands clenched into a fist. He did not like to be 'played' and had not been prepared for this conversation. "She is preventing him from passing over. From letting me sever the tie between his body and soul. But she cannot persist in this way - and neither can he. She's going to go insane any minute now - and then she'll let him slip."

Lyon shut his eyes, and smirked slightly. What he knew of the firebrand who had named herself Veil - he very much doubted she would ever do such a thing. Indeed, that the girl had any semblance of a mind left at all, burning away as she did, was remarkable.

"That is all I needed to know. You are dismissed."

"What?!" Death blustered in indignity. "That is all?!"

"Unless you have any means to restore his body to life, I have no more use for you," Lyon rested his hands on the table, shooting a cold glare at the spectre.

"Even if I did, I most certainly would _not!_ Not even if Lord Dracula demanded it!" Death spouted haughtily.

"Is that so?"

If the skeleton could have gone pale, he would have. It had not been Lyon that had spoken. It had been Lord Dracula _himself_ , who had appeared in silence, standing by the wall behind Death.

"M… My Lord!" Death whirled to face his Master, and cowered. "I was… angry at the priest for his ingratuity for my being so forthcoming. I meant nothing by it, I assure you-"

"Leave us," Dracula demanded coldly. Without even a pause, the skeleton was gone - disappearing in a swirl of black fabric that tattered away in an unfelt breeze.

In a moment of uncharacteristic reluctance, Vlad walked forward - his boots clicking quietly on the floor as he approached the table on which his son lay in repose. He lifted a pale hand, and gently stroked Adrian's hair. Several emotions flashed over the dark king at once. Sorrow, anger, grief, hatred - all vying for control in a matter of moments. It settled upon loss, and Lyon watched his friend and master lower his head - tears of blood streaking his face.

"Your scheme may still work," Lyon spoke after a long moment of letting the elder vampire grieve. Not only for the loss of his son - but for the choice he now must make. "His soul has not departed - it is still tied to his body, as if it still lived. There is a chance - if the castle accepts him."

"I know." Vlad opened his eyes, the usual crimson flicker instead such a deep red it was nearly black. His heart was heavy with the path before him. "But at what cost, do I now seek my freedom?"

Lyon nodded, weakly - his heart heavy for all of them. "You did not mean for it to happen this way, and I shudder to look down either fork in the path before you. But the cost remains the same."

"But to cast him, unwitting and unwilling, down this path?" Vlad shook his head. "I am a selfish man, Lyon - but _that_ is a curse of madness I would lay upon him. And if I proceed, if the castle 'accepts' him as you say - what manner of creature would rise wearing the face of my son?"

Lyon let out a long breath, and looked off - at a stained glass window that cast colored reflections upon the ground. "He may yet have something to live for, other than to see you destroyed." He turned back to his Master. "Love can give us all the strength to endure."

"If I have not destroyed _her,_ as well." Vlad's voice was thick with sadness - yet not regret. If he knew his master at all - he no longer regret any action he took. There was not time enough in the world do repent for them all. Vlad lifted his hand from his son, and let it rest on the table. "There will be no turning back from this… It is a curse that cannot be lifted."

"It is your choice to make, my lord, not I."

"No," Vlad said with a cruel laugh. "It is his - yet he cannot very well make it himself, now can he?"

Lyon nodded once more. "I beg you only not to delay, as time grows short... for both of them."

* * *

At least now she had someone to talk to.

Or, more correctly, talk _at._

It's not like Adrian could respond - it's not like he was really listening. But it gave her something to focus on that wasn't the horrible, mind-numbing and inescapable pain. He had not moved, not spoken since he had whispered her name - and even then, it was hard to tell if he had really been 'home' in that moment.

So, she told him stories from her life. Since they hadn't ever really had a chance to 'get to know each other.' Okay, they knew each other in the 'biblical' sense, yes. But traditionally, less so. So she told him about when she and Richard had met. About hunting cultists. About her life with Alistair - about her life with the family that had raised her. About her likes, dislikes - her favorite foods...

She told him about her visit to Paris, Amsterdam, Norway and Iceland - to Moscow, to Cairo. God, she had loved Cairo. But it had been a safer time, then. "You should see the pyramids, Adrian. Hell… you should travel at all. I wonder if you've ever really been anywhere. London's my favorite. You'd fit in - well, with more modern clothes anyway. I swear the entire country is about as pale as you are," she said with a chuckle.

Veil was stroking his hair back with her fingertips again, as she went back to telling him stories. "Okay, so I think my favorite fight with a cult, was this place near Anaheim. Even by cult standards, they were pretty damn stupid. They had been listening to Anton LaVey, but somehow managed to miss the fact that the asshole was being _entirely sarcastic._ So, they wanted to 'summon Satan.' I don't think they really thought through the 'then what' if they succeeded. Well, they decided to cover their bases and sacrifice a whole shitload of animals just in case. Chickens, sheep, cats, a dog, some hamsters, I don't know. I showed up just before they got to the goat." Veil laughed at the memory. "I start emptying the place, and one of the goons decides he's going to untie said goat - and hope it distracts me or something. I think he was out of ideas. And, as I said, _really stupid_."

"In short, the goat wants none of it. Headbutts the guy straight to the stomach, starts stomping the living hell out of the guy. It took me a few minutes to stop laughing before I could get the goat off the idiot."

Telling the stories felt like reliving a better time - a simpler time. "The cops show up, meanwhile - to arrest said cult members. I can't really be seen there, since I'm not _exactly_ a badge-wearing member of the police force. So… I'm about to leave, and it's me, and this goat. The thought hits me: What're they going to do with him? I get it into my head that they're just going to put the poor thing down. I can't have that, the goat just helped me beat up on some assholes."

Veil grinned wide. "And that is exactly how I ended up with a pet goat for most of the 1980's. I named him Caligula because - well, anyway - he was a good kid. … Get it? Oh… nevermind..."

Veil smiled at the memory, and looked up and across the glass-like ocean. She was starting to run out of stories. She had no idea how long Adrian had been here - time probably moved differently here than in most places. But for her, it had seemed like hours. Maybe a day.

Suddenly, something felt… wrong.

She looked down, and he was… fading away. "No-" she said, horrified. "No, no- _Please…!_ " Veil scrambled for him - scrambled to hold onto him - but it was like trying to hold onto the wind, or grains of sand.

He was gone.

Veil let out a cry of agony - of grief. Putting her head into her hands, she wept once more. Adrian was gone. Somehow, he had slipped her grasp. She honestly didn't weep for him - he was, as Azrael had said, in heaven, now. With his mother, with his friends. His agony was over. Veil wept for herself. Trapped in this place, alone… and knowing even if she ever got out of here - she would be greeted by a world without him in it.

* * *

Adrian awoke screaming.

He was drowning. Drowning in pain - drowning in _blood._

He felt as though his veins were on fire. He felt as though he were aflame. His back arched as his body lit with agony. His hands lashed out for anything near him, anything to orient himself with. They met cold stone - a floor, underneath him. His nails dug into the surface, uncaring for the jolts of a new kind of pain that ran up his fingers at the grating sensation.

Was this hell?

Why had he allowed himself the conceit that on the day of his death, he might be greeted by old friends, by family, in Heaven? Why was he so utterly surprised to find himself, burning in the pits of _hell?!_

He howled and slammed his fist into the stone - with a force that should have shattered his hand. Instead, it gave him purchase against the fire that ran through him like poison. It gave him something else on which to focus.

A vision ran rampant through his mind. A black beach - a grey sky. Arms, cradling him, speaking to him as if he could respond. Veil - laughing, holding him. He had died. He had been shot with blessed metal, and left to die. Darkness had claimed him - and he felt the gentle touch of eternity calling for him. But it was her hand on him that had kept him back - kept him from crossing that threshold.

Veil would not let his soul leave this place.

Is that where she was trapped…?

He remembered the pain of that place - a cold that swallowed him whole, made him unable to move, unable to think, or speak. It emptied him of all things. And yet, she had laughed, cried… held him as though _he_ were the ailing one. How she had not been driven mad by the pain, by the burning cold - he could not understand.

He felt his fangs against his lip as he snarled and slammed his fist into the stone once more - he heard it crack underneath his hand. It shouldn't have… that was a strength he did not possess. It was that thought that drove him to the next. _What has happened to me…?_

Adrian managed to open his eyes - even as the poison wracked his system - whatever snake venom had claimed him. A figure loomed over him - a dark silhouette against a dimly lit room he could not yet gain focus on. A silhouette he knew well, even through his blurred vision.

No. This was not Hell. For that is a place he could never enter. Adrian was… _alive._ But how…?

Somehow, he found the strength to speak.

"Father… Wh… what have you done…?"

* * *

Movement of a shadow of leaves on a pane of glass. Blowing idly in the wind, casting its dancing, unfocused shape along the panes of dimly lit stained glass, arranged in the shape of some black-winged 'angel.' It reminded her too much of Asmodeus.

That was the first thought she had. Recognizing the shape of the shadows against the stained glass. That's what caught her attention. Not the hands at her shoulders, not the voice talking quietly to her. Coaxing her, pleading with her - for what, and for what reason, she didn't know.

It was like a nagging fly at her ear, whoever was talking. Finally, cringing in pain, she turned her head to face the source of the noise - to brush it off like an insect. She saw a pale face, white, neatly kept hair - and eyes so pale blue they nearly matched the rest of him. It was a sharp offset to the black he wore.

"Do you know me, my lady..?"

She squinted. Did she? Yes, she did. And he was dumb for calling her that. "Not a 'lady,'" she muttered. "Stupid priest."

"Are you... alright?"

"Stupid question," she shut her eyes. "Stupid priest." She was so _very tired._ She felt bent, and broken - spent and used. She just wanted to sleep. Darkness came to her as if called, and swept her off in its arms.

* * *

Adrian knew not where they were. It was ancient - beyond the point of anything he had seen in the castle. Over them, stretched a massive domed ceiling - painted like a Greek mural. Instead of gods and goddesses in the clouds of Mount Olympus, these were their mocking counterparts on earth - the gods and goddesses of the castle itself - a mural of its stretching parapets and towers, like black claws raking at a red sky. He saw Dracula, Camilla, Medusa, Death and Lyon. And he saw… himself. Depicted holding his sword in pose in front of him, blade turned upwards - like a great knight of legend.

But instead of a challenger… he was painted as one of them. His black coat melded with the shadowy structure behind him. He was the vigilant soldier and valiant prince, standing next to the mastermind - the great King and strategist that was his father.

Adrian was on his knees, more for the lack of the strength to stand, than any other reason. Columns, feet thick and made of massive hewn stone, circled a pool, inset into the ground like a roman bath. The circular pool was filled with a thick, black, viscous liquid. It was only in the reflection of the firelight that he could see it was such a deep crimson, that it appeared without color at all. Blood.

This was the heart of the castle.

His mind scrambled to discern what had happened - to find meaning behind all of this. His father had not spoken - merely watched him in trepidation, for whatever he would do next. Why? Why was his father so wary of him? Never once, in all their years, had he ever looked upon him such.

"I died." Adrian asserted it as fact.

"Yes," Vlad finally answered.

Adrian looked down at his palms - and saw his pale skin, unmarred. As if he would expect the answer written there in ink. "How am I now, then, alive?"

Silence.

 _"Speak to me!"_ Adrian howled - and before he knew what he had done, he had thrown his father against the wall and pinned him there, a hand twisted in his collar at his neck. His fangs had extended, and were touching his lower lip.

He blinked, and withdrew - looking down at his own hands again now as if they were traitors to him. He did not intend to do that. Instinct had spoken, and instinct had driven him without thought or check.

"What have you done to me…?"

"Forgive me, my son…" Vlad spoke, his voice sincere. It was… filled with more grief than he had ever known the elder vampire to shed - even in the death of Lisa. "I am a selfish creature. I could not let you go."

"In that, you are not alone…" Adrian murmured, remembering Veil, holding him at the brink of eternity. Adrian took another step backwards, and turned to look at the pool of blood. It seemed to call to him - seemed to call from somewhere within him.

 _No._

Horror pulled at him, as he realized what this all meant. What this all portended. Adrian turned back to his father, now the anger very much intentional. "I shall ask again… _What have you done?!"_

And yet, he did not respond. "Tell me!" Adrian howled - and he found himself nearly losing control of himself once more. Rage boiled up in him. _Hunger for revenge._ These were thoughts that were not his. Feelings that were foreign to him. He put his head in his hands, and tried to force them away.

Adrian jolted as a hand fell on his shoulder. He did not recoil from the gesture - for it was so foreign to have his father touch him in such a congenial way, it had frozen in him in place.

"You and I… are now as equals." Adrian pulled away at that, and looked up at his father's face - now torn once more in sorrow. But just as quickly, he hid it behind a stoic mask before he continued to speak. "You are now, as was always your intended fate and future - heir apparent to the throne of darkness. It is the castle that resurrected you."

"It…" Adrian's mind scrambled to make meaning out of this nonsense - to grasp the injustice that had been done to him. The castle only resurrected one man. One monster. "You… mean to say that I am _like you -_ that it will now raise me from the dead - _forever?!"_

Vlad turned from him, and Adrian knew he meant to abandon him in this place.

"Do not dare hide from what you have done." Adrian began, stalking after his father. He made it a few steps before Dracula turned back around to face him. "Say the words - _tell me how it is I have life!"_

"I have cursed you to the same fate I have spent so many centuries seeking to escape. Your body courses with its blood. It has accepted you as its own, same as I."

Adrian flew at him in a rage - ready to tear the other vampire to shreds. This time, Dracula was ready, and deflected the attack easily - shoving Adrian aside and sending him staggering backwards.

Vlad had fed him to this place - this semi-sentient entity that kept all of its monsters and demons alive. And now… he was one of them. No, worse than that - he was its _kin._ Same as his father.

Adrian could feel the power that raged within him. It was that faculty - that _darkness_ that was pushing for freedom. That was the poison that he had felt - that was the fire that ripped through him. It was the blood of that pool - the castle itself working its way through his body.

He wanted to tear this place apart - wanted to shred a creature limb from limb. Wanted to feel hot blood on his tongue, wanted to -

 _No!_

He shouted at himself in his mind, and dug his hands into his hair, digging his fingers into his scalp. Over and over he repeated to himself in his mind that he was not this monster. He was not like them. He was not one of them.

"You are strong, Adrian… stronger even than I, to resist the call of the darkness. I have… _faith_ … that you will succeed where I failed."

"Which is where, precisely?!" Adrian snarled - battling the sudden boiling in his blood.

"Keeping hold of your own heart."

Veil.

The thought of her snapped into his mind like the shutters of the window opening at first dawn, casting light into the shadows of his mind. He raised his head just slightly from his hands - the long tendrils of his hair masking his face from his father. It mattered little - they were family after all, and Vlad could read his reaction as clear as day.

"You truly do love her, don't you…?" Vlad sighed deeply. "She is in great need. And so, I suspect, are you. Go to her."

"What have you done to her…?"

"She will tell you, I am sure. Just know… I have my reasons. My callousness is never without cause. You may both come find me for the answers you seek - when you are ready."

A roar of fire announced Vlad's departure - leaving Adrian in this… place. The heart of the castle.

Was he angry for what had happened to him? Was he glad for it? Adrian looked down at his palms once more - and knew not what he sought to find written there. Veil and his father, in their own right, own methods, and own reasons - had kept him from the peace of death. And now, it seemed that was to be… a permanent ordeal.

Oft Adrian had mused, in the darkest hours, that he was trapped in some manner of waking purgatory. This never-ending cycle of standing guardian against the darkness. What a fool he had been, to think he had been standing at the door to eternity. Now, his purgatory had become real.

Adrian would live forever.

Again and again, in this cycle - in this trap. He could not even fully wrap his mind around the concept of what had happened. He was on edge - he _itched_ for something he could not name. It was a hunger that gnawed at him - but for what? For blood? For death? For flesh? Was this what his father experienced, at all waking hours? This unyielding and horrible _need?_

Suddenly, he felt great pity for his father. To live with such a drive burning away inside of him - it was enough to make Adrian wish to tear the columns down around him in this ancient place. His hands were shaking, and he felt consumed by this pounding, driving bloodlust. This need to _take._ To kill. _To hunt._

He screamed, and pounded his fist into the column next to him, and watched as spider web cracks formed in its surface, radiating out from the impact. Adrian should have been able to do that. Only his father had such preternatural strength, of all the vampires.

'You and I are now as equals,' he had said. Was he truly now, same to his father? Was his blood, now fully that of the castle? The terrible power - the horrible surge he felt within him, made it feel as though he could lash out at any time and tear reality itself asunder.

Had his mortal side perished in that pool of dark and vicious essence?

 _What would happen now?_

Adrian had no answers to any of the questions that ransacked his very being. There was only one course of action to take for the moment. He summoned the power to travel in a manner he had not done in hundreds of years. Not since he was a boy in this place - when those roads of travel were not closed to him, as they had after he and his father had 'fallen out.'

 _Take me to her,_ he commanded. And the place buried deep beneath the castle - this heart of the creature itself - snapped out of vision as he traveled away.

* * *

Veil woke up. On a goddamn sofa this time, at least. A pillow had been placed under her head, and a blanket carefully draped over her. How… thoughtful. She sat up slowly, rubbing her face, surprised she still _had_ a face. The feeling of heavy metal around her neck reminded her that she was still trapped. Collared to keep her body and soul attached - to keep her from freedom. She touched it, and let out a wavering breath. At least she wasn't chained to the furniture like a dog on a leash this time.

Where was she? Why was she here? Veil looked around the room - it was a living room of sorts, in a fancy 'I have several living rooms attached to each other because money and reasons' kind of way. She had never spent time in castles - she had no idea if this kind of thing was normal or not.

But the room seemed more… cozy than grandiose like the others she'd seen in her wandering of the castle. Smaller and more intimate, with shorter ceilings and warmer light. There were sofas gathered around a fireplace which was lit, and quietly crackling, filling the room with a wonderful warmth.

Veil had nearly forgotten what it was like to feel _warmth._

Movement to one side of the room caught her attention - and she realized she had missed entirely that Lyon had been sitting in a chair by one wall. He stood, and walked without speaking to a bar by one wall. He poured two drinks, and walking up to her, handed her the glass, his delicate and pale fingers holding it by the rim.

"Thanks," she muttered gratefully, taking it from him. And she was, very sincerely, thankful. For the drink, and for letting her out of that coffin. "Am I dead?"

"No," Lyon said with a faint smile, and moved to sit in a chair across from her. "You are not. Nor are you insane. This is the world you came from."

"Oh good," she said. "The talking chickens were getting really annoying." Lyon shot her a quizzical glance and she laughed. "I'm joking, asshat."

His face smoothed into one of bemusement, and he leaned back in the chair, raising his own glass to his lips.

"Why did you free me?" she asked, trying not to let her mind wander back to the coffin - locked in that place, unable to breathe. Unable to live, or die. She shuddered and pulled the blanket around herself again reflexively.

"I was bade to do so."

Dracula sent him to release her, then… "Why?" It was then, that she remembered, and she felt a knife twist in her heart in pure and utter grief. "Because of… of Adrian…"

"Yes." Lyon was watching her with keen interest. "But perhaps not in the way that you think."

Before she could ask a follow up question, they were not alone. Another figure walked into the room - and she stood up so fast she nearly fell over. She only barely remembered to put her glass down on the coffee table before springing across the room.

"Adrian..?" He was alive. How was that possible?! She didn't care. She almost ran across the room, and threw herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. A laugh that was inspired more from relief than anything else sprung to her lips.

His arms circled around her, and held her tightly. He placed a hand on the back of her head as she rested it on his chest. "Leave us, priest."

Lyon stood slowly from the chair, and placed his glass upon the coffee table. "I advise you, young master… to take great care. You may not yet be yourself."

 _"Leave us!"_ Adrian snarled. His sudden shift in tone made Veil jump, and she tried to pull away from him to look up at his face. But he would not allow it. Instead, he lowered his head to rest atop hers, and held her tight. "Forgive me," he whispered to her.

He let her move back from him, just enough for him to cup her face in his hand, and run his thumb slowly along her cheek. His eyes were… crimson. She blinked, confused. With that, and his words - and his being alive… Something wasn't right.

His hand trailed down to her neck, to the metal, enchanted collar around it. His hand slid to it, and he touched it, his brow furrowed. "What is this?"

"Vlad had it made. It's kept my body and soul stuck together. It keeps me from moving through the spirit world. It… It let him keep me prisoner." She went pale at the memory of what had happened, and it did not escape Adrian's notice.

"What has he done?" His expression grew dark, in a way she had never known him to wear. But the question was insistent, and left her no room to ask what was wrong.

"He threatened to kill everyone, if I didn't help him kill Alistair. I told him no. That he had done far worse than the archangel, and he needed to be stopped. He passed me around at dinner like a goddamn party favor-" when his lip curled in rage, she clarified, realizing what he thought she meant. "They fed from me. Watched me die, again and again… Made me watch as Gabriel and Conrad…" her heart wrenched at the memory of their loss, and she lowered her head, shutting her eyes. He held her back close to him as she talked. "They're gone."

"I know. They did not deserve what they received."

"I never thought I'd actually... _miss_ them. But I... I do. I wish..."

"There was little you could do to save them... when my father wishes someone dead - it is inevitable. What then?"

"I thought that was the worst of it. I thought he'd… give up. But he-" she choked off, and could feel herself trembling at the memory. God damn it all - this wasn't her. She was stronger than this. He gently stroked her back, trying to console her. "He buried me alive in a coffin - in a crypt with no air. I couldn't die - I couldn't come back to life. I was trapped there, in that place..."

Adrian went stiff - and she lifted her head to look up at him. His expression was one of anger - he was glaring off into space, clearly furious for what had been done to her. When his crimson eyes met her dark ones, she almost recoiled from him. His hand trailed down to the collar at her neck again, and she tried not to jump backwards as he wrapped his hand around it.

Veil felt some kind of power come from him - some form of magic she couldn't identify. He squeezed - the metal snapping in his hand like glass. He threw it aside, and let his hand trace her neck - at the red mark left behind from where the metal had bit into her skin. He was outraged at the mark left on her - even if it was temporary. "He will pay for what he has done."

"What about you? What the hell happened to you?! Azrael said that… that Richard…" she broke off, not able to finish. Not able to say the words. Not able to say 'my best friend killed you.'

Adrian's face lost the mask of rage and it was one of quiet anger instead. "Yes. I would not leave here, not without seeing my task done. Not without seeing you freed. He feared for his life. The archangel may have encouraged him in some way - but it was not he who pulled the trigger."

Veil put her hand on his chest, and shook her head, not knowing what to think. "You were dead. I know you were. I-"

"You kept me from crossing over."

He didn't say it in anger - but he didn't sound pleased, either. Azrael's words ran through her head. That she had done Adrian some great wrong - that he was destined for heaven, to see his friends and his mother - to never have to worry again about his burden of protecting the earth from his father. What had she done?

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice faint. She took a step back away from him, and he allowed it this time. His face was a stoic mask. "I just… I couldn't let you go."

"Neither could my father, it seems."

Those words struck a sudden realization in her. _She wasn't a prisoner anymore._ Neither was Adrian. They were left, in private - to their own devices. What had changed? Why weren't they being attacked, or locked away?

"What did he do to you?" she asked him in turn. She reached out to touch him again, and his hand snapped around her wrist. He stepped towards her - no, stalked towards her - and she felt fear grip her stomach for the first time since seeing him. The realization that he might not... really be himself. "How did you come back to life? I didn't know Dracula could do-"

"He cannot." He yanked her towards him and she let out a startled squeak as she fell into him. His other arm wrapped around her lower back, keeping her pinned tight against him. "Only I could receive this _'gift,'_ by benefit that I share his blood. He brought my corpse to the heart of the castle." His voice was a dark, low whisper as he released her wrist to cup her face in his hand again, letting his thumb trace a line along her lower lip. "Where it corrupted my body, and brought me back to life."

Veil watched, wide-eyed, as he inched closer to her, his crimson eyes half-lidded. Even as his tone was cruel, it was heated. He lowered his lips to hers, and kissed her. He was somehow colder to the touch now, than he had ever been before. His words echoed in her mind that he had been corrupted. _By the castle itself._

Veil pushed away from him - or rather, tried to. The hand around her waist tightened - and she only succeeded in pulling her head away from his. "He made you like him, didn't he…?"

"And I have both of you to _'thank'_ for it," he replied angrily - his voice quiet and dark. It was a seething anger. His crimson eyes narrowed at her, and his hand slid around to the back of her neck, gripping her hair and pulling her head back painfully.

Veil let out a small noise of surprise and struggled harder. "Adrian _stop-_ Let me go."

"No." Was his simple, cruel response.

This wasn't like him. She struggled again, and slammed her fist into his chest " _Adrian-_ " she warned him, but he only laughed quietly in his throat, and lowered his head to her neck. She tried again to push him off, but could only gasp and arch against him as his fangs pierced her neck.

He moaned against her skin, and she felt him cinch his arm around her tighter, pressing her against him as he drank. Veil let out a whimper as she felt the pleasure rush through her body - her knees would have given out, if he didn't have her so firmly pressed against him. Her head reeled as he drank - as the aching ecstasy of the bite rolled over her in waves.

Veil could only weakly grasp onto his shoulders, half trying to push him away - and half drawing him closer. His hand splayed out on her lower back, and he shifted his hand in her hair to hold the back of her neck, tilting her head further away from him as he deepened the bite. The sensation made her cry out in both pleasure and pain - and drew another moan from deep within his chest.

He was going to bleed her dry, she realized through the haze of the pleasure he was drawing out in her. Fear gripped her stomach, as she realized he was intending on killing her. Her hands pressed against his shoulders, trying to push him off of her. It was no use. Her hand went to his own hair, trying to yank him off of her. But he would not be moved, in fact her actions only made him bite deeper - to moan again deep in his throat as her blood filled his mouth.

This was Adrian - her Adrian, wasn't it? The man that she loved. She had encouraged this in him, hadn't she? Didn't she want this?

He had begun to let out the low, primal purr in his throat that made him sound so much like a wild animal. It was a low reverberation in his chest, and it made her eyes slide shut.

She had a hand in this. This was partially her fault, wasn't it?

It was that thought, that made her surrender to him. Veil gave up trying to fight him - letting her hands relax against him, to embrace him rather than to push him away. That drew another deep sound of appreciation from him - and he shifted against her. Everything was starting to grow fuzzy, as she felt death creep in closer to her.

The thought of going back to that place had never frightened her before - but now it very much did. But it was too late to be stopped, and she felt everything simply fade away.


	20. Chapter 20

**Here we are - enjoy! Back from a work trip, sorry this took a little longer to get out than most. Gets very M rated about halfway in. ;)**

* * *

Corruption.

An odd concept, to be frank. One steeped in judgement and perverted by a cast of value. For who is to say that such a thing, 'corruption,' exists? Indeed it does not, but for that its state is viewed to be erroneous and debased by he who seeks to place upon its origination such a label.

Adrian viewed himself now as such a thing. He placed the label upon _himself._ Corrupted. Debased and crude. As he cradled her lifeless body in his arms, he knew it was none but he who had placed her there.

She would return to life in a moment's time. She always did. Breath would return to her lips.

It always would.

And now, it seemed… so it would be for he, as well.

To think that fate placed him here, with her - by chance - was far too much of a leap of 'faith' for him to ignore. Adrian was not one who ever believe in coincidence. To think that there was someone ethereal being playing out the plot of their lives like puppets at a faire, was to guarantee that he had paid them some undue wrong for such cruel treatment at their behest.

The desire to taste her blood - to feed from her flesh - had overwhelmed him. Rage and anger had lead him to hurt her… she had begged for mercy. Begged for him to stop. But in the end, she had surrendered to him. Embraced him.

It was that knowledge, that even in his madness - even his his _corruption -_ she had trusted him, that fed his guilt. She had let go of her unbreakable will, even as he forced himself upon her.

Why?

For love of _him._

What manner of monster, was he now?

* * *

Seriously?!

 _Another floor?!_

This was getting fucking _old._

Veil shuddered, feeling the cold in her limbs slowly begin to fade. Opening her eyes, she watched her breath form to mist in the warmer air. She was lying on her back, and her eyes focused on a dark, starry sky. Hazy and red, but still with the flickering lights of burning infernos a trillion miles away. Rolling onto her side, she pushed herself up to her hands and knees. Her hand went to her neck - as if she'd find a wound. Adrian… he had fed from her. No, it was more than that. He had _killed her_ \- and… left her here? That was not like him. None of this was like him.

Where was _here,_ anyway?

Veil reached out to push herself up from the cobblestone surface of - somewhere, she had no clue where - and was surprised when her hand fell upon her glaive, lying next to her. As she knelt, she picked it up - the blade scraping along the stone with the telltale sound of steel on rock.

A deep, inhuman growl came from behind her. Of some… gigantic beast. It had not liked the sound of her gripping her weapon.

Free from the collar that kept her shackled to this world - she phased away into the spirit one. Whirling, able to turn to face the creature without fear of it attacking her - her eyes went wide at what she saw.

A wolf.

A _gigantic wolf._ White - and easily the a Land Rover. Or a Clydesdale horse. It seemed to flicker in and out of existence, like flame - like it was not comprised entirely of _real_ matter. It was a phantasm of some kind, she realized. She remembered her mythology books well from her 'younger age' - and the stories of the Ragnarok, and Fenris, the dread wolf. This creature looked the part.

Veil took two steps back, and phased back into the physical world, holding her glaive ready to fight the monster. Veil still had no idea where they were - it didn't look like she was still inside the castle.

The stone under her belonged to the ruins of some ancient outdoor plaza - meant for lavish parties and decadent promenades of eras gone by - now overgrown with vines and crumbling apart. The moon was red and full overhead - casting the white, otherworldly fur of the monster in eerie shades of crimson to match its glowing red eyes.

It stepped a paw towards her, its claws digging into the stone and upending it into gravel like it was nothing. Veil took a step back, and lifted her weapon. "Hey now…" she said to it, gripping the metal staff of the blade with both hands. "I don't have an quarrel with you, pooch… calm down."

It snarled, its maw curling back to reveal sharp, vicious teeth. It took another step forward - and she realized it was… hunting her. There was no talking it down from its bloodlust.

It leapt at her - ready to tear her to pieces. She dodged, dashing her soul in between its legs, her body quickly following. She slashed at its side as she went, and it howled in pain. It moved faster than anything its size had any right doing - and it was her turn to cry out in pain as it tried to pin her to the ground with a massive paw - successfully knocking her backwards, and opening a deep gash in her side.

It was only by benefit of her escaping to the spirit world that it then didn't clamp its jaws around her arm and snap it clean off. She reformed, as she was unable to stay in the spirit world for too long while injured. It risked her dying there, and then god-knows-what would happen. She whirled her glaive and it found paydirt - striking the wolf across the face. It reared back, howling in pain.

The battle that followed was a vicious one - tooth and claw, steel and staff. The wolf was fast - and she was just barely able to keep up. It couldn't predict her movements - and she was much smaller than it. That was her advantage. The wolf, had her on sheer strength and fortitude. It would take a lot of hits from her, before it went down.

It dove at her, and she turned her glaive sideways, and managed to wedge the handle of her of her glaive in its mouth from cheek to cheek. It left its snarling, bared fangs and sharpened teeth very close to her face - close enough to feel its cold breath on her skin. The force of the impact had pushed her backwards, even as she dug her heels in as best as she could.

She vanished once more - and the creature staggered forward with the sudden change in balance - but recovered quickly.

Each time its claws met stone, the courtyard was torn up, sending rubble and rocks scattering around into the trees and overgrown roots that had tried to return this place to nature. The fight happened at a breakneck, blinding speed. To observers it would have looked like madness.

Her heart was pounding in her ears. She was bleeding badly - and although she'd heal - the question was… which would happen first? It eating her, or her bleeding to death?

Being eaten alive wasn't yet on her checklist of 'ways she'd died' and it wasn't one she was particularly excited about adding.

The wolf crouched, snarled - and leapt into the air, intending on landing on her, and tearing her apart. She sent her soul upwards to meet it - and the resulting inertia had her glaive digging through the shoulder of the monster. It splintered bone and sinew as it pierced its flesh.

Veil fell backwards - landing hard on the stone with an 'unf' as the creature loomed over her - impaled on her weapon and dying - but not dead _yet._

Its massive jaw opened, ready to tear her head off her shoulders. She may have killed the wolf - but it was now about to return the favor. She closed her eyes tight and turned her head away as it dropped its head to wrap its teeth around her throat. She could feel its breath on her, and she waited for the pain and the darkness.

But the blow didn't come.

The weight over her shifted, and she opened her eyes.

The creature over her was no longer a bus-sized wolf. It was not the monster now impaled on her glaive.

It was Adrian.

It had torn straight through his shoulder - the blade sticking out grotesquely on the other side. He gripped the handle with both hands, and ripped it out of himself with a grunt, and let it fall to the ground with a clatter.

Veil stood, shakily - and then fell back to her knees with a cry of pain. She pressed her hand to her side - and felt the wet blood there, pouring out of the wound he had dealt her.

Adrian looked down at the massive gash in his chest, and he pressed his own fingers to the wound. As she watched - it… healed. Flesh mending itself as if the blow had never happened. Only the rip in his shirt, and the bloodstain remained as proof. He hadn't been able to do that before… just heal like it was nothing.

Cold, crimson eyes turned to look at her, as she knelt on the stone. "Adrian…?" she said, weakly. To say she was confused would be an understatement. He had… he had been the wolf. _He_ had attacked her. Was this _really_ him? Or was it some demon, wearing his face..?

He stepped up to her slowly, making no noise on the courtyard cobblestones as he walked. He looked even more like a predator now, than he had as the creature whose form he had taken a moment before. He reached down and placed his hand under her chin, and raised it to look at him.

He knelt down in front of her, joining her on the stone - and his other hand wound its way into the hair at the back of her neck. He leant forward to kiss her - tilting his head to deepen it. It was a slow, luxurious kiss - savoring her. Savoring the moment. One of his hands wandered down to her side, and she cried out against him as he pressed a finger into the wound in her side - the one he had put there.

She tried to pull back from him - but the hand at the back of her neck kept her there. He broke the kiss - if only to allow him the space to put the bloodied digit in between his lips - licking her blood from his finger. She shuddered and let out a low noise in her throat.

His eyes slid shut, as he seemed to become lost in the taste of her blood.

"Adrian please," she begged, barely even a whisper. It was only at her words that he opened his eyes to look at her, and she desperately searched his crimson eyes for any sign that he was still the man she loved.

He stood, and a hand under her arm pulled her up with him. She staggered, nearly falling over - and only his arm around her kept her from toppling over from the sudden movement.

"This place was once beautiful," he said, leaving her to walk out into the overgrown, ruined courtyard. "I remember it from when I was a boy. Mother and father once threw a gala here - for me… for my birthday, I believe." He walked to a stone archway - the center keystone having long since fallen away and become rubble, and much of the arch going with it. He placed his hand on a crumbling pillar, and the vine that had attempted to claim the structure as its own. "This… is my home. How I tried to shirk this place from my soul. But now… _now_ it has come to claim me. Once, and for all…"

"Why did you attack me…?"

"Simply? I wished to do so." He turned to look at her - his crimson eyes glinting in the light like they were glowing embers. His blond hair wisping across his sharp, stoic features in the gentle breeze that picked up and blew a stray leaf or two across the stones at their feet. It struck her once more how… _beautiful_ he was. A carved statue of an angel - and just as morose. Just as mournful.

His words weren't cruel. They weren't meant to hurt her. They were simple fact - he had wished to attack her, and so… he did. It was the meaning behind his words that broke her heart. The very complex answer behind his 'simple' one. He wished to attack her - it was an urge that rose to the surface, and he let himself indulge it.

That was what the castle had done to him. That is what his _father_ had done to him. If Adrian's thirsts had been a cry before - now, they must be a deafening roar. When she lifted her head back to look at him - he had not moved. Once more he resembled a statue of carved perfection.

"What did you hope would happen?" she asked him quietly, her hand still pressed against the wound in her side. It was healing - but it'd take time. It still stung like a bitch, though.

"I had hoped you would kill me. Correction, I had hoped that you _could_ kill me. It seems we are now _both_ beyond the reach of death." Adrian whirled - his coat picking up the breeze and whipping around him as he turned his back to her, and began to walk away. "Leave here, Veil - and do not return."

It felt like she had been stabbed all over again. That the wound in her side suddenly paled in comparison to the one in her gut. Adrian began to shimmer around the edges - as if he were about to disappear, and leave her standing there on that stone courtyard.

Veil dashed her soul towards him - wrapping her ethereal hand around his wrist. Her body followed suit a split second later.

He turned to look down at her - his face still the stoic, cold mask. "Yes?" he asked down at her.

"You're kidding me," she said, her voice wavering. Her heart felt like it was attached to a yo-yo, and she desperately wanted it to stop for a second so she could catch her breath.

"I do no such thing."

"I don't accept that," she squeezed his wrist harder - knowing she couldn't hurt him, even if she tried. It was for her benefit that she did - to convince herself she wouldn't let him go. "I'm not letting you walk away."

"Do not be a fool," he lifted his wrist, clasped in her hand, and used his other hand to pry her off of him. She let him, and didn't fight as he released her hand and let it fall back to her side. "There is nothing here but ruin and death. Leave."

"There's more than that in this place, now. If you're really… If this castle really took you - then there's love for me here, as well." She went to touch his face - and he swatted her hand away from him like some irritating fly.

Adrian turned to walk away from her once more, and once more she kept him from it. She put her hand on his shoulder and forced him to turn back to her. The movement brought a sharp desperate pain in her side, and she could feel more hot, sticking liquid pool around her fingers and into her shirt.

He rounded on her as she turned him around - and with his arm, knocked her hard across the chest and sent her reeling backwards - sliding across the stone with the force of the hit. It was a brutal blow - and it knocked the wind out of her for a moment.

"Stay down, if you will not let me go." His voice was a winter wind - cold and devoid of emotion.

Veil grit her teeth through the pain. Like hell she was going to start listening to him _now._ Veil pushed herself back to standing - and ever inch was agony. But she had been through far… _far worse._

She picked up her glaive from where it lay on the stones, and turned back to face him. She held it - ready for a fight - her other hand pressed to the seeping wound at her side. "I am not walking away from you. Not now, not ever. You can play this cold face at me - you can even lie to me and say you don't love me. That you don't still feel _something_ for me. You can be cruel. You can hurt me. I don't _fucking care._ Why? It's a lie - one you're spinning to try and drive me away as if it'll somehow save me. Save me from what? A fate that I can't escape, any more than you can? You and I both know I'm not going anywhere. So neither are you. You won't leave this courtyard - not until you snap out of it, or you leave me as a smear on the pavement!"

Adrian's eyes narrowed at her angry rant, but he made no other motion. No other movement. Not even to draw his sword, sheathed at his side.

Veil growled in frustration - and felt adrenaline and anger rush through her at his cold, impassive dismissal of her. As much as she tried to shrug off the icy and empty glare - she was twisting as if he had stabbed her again. So fine - she'd solve this the way she solved all her problems. With violence.

She charged at him - her soul moving towards him ahead of her body, and it snapping quickly after with inhuman speed. The blow with the butt of her glaive was intended to meet his ribs - and send him smashing into the stone behind him. Veil knew how fast he was - had learned to see his patterns and his method. She could predict how he'd dodge, and she'd counter with a strike across the face with the back of the blade. A vicious blow to match the one he'd just dealt her - one he wouldn't see coming.

It all played out so nicely in her head.

It would have worked.

If she had known how much he had changed. He was another creature altogether. He simply _blinked_ out of existence. As if he were an illusion. He'd never moved that fast before - and the end of her glaive met the stone, shattering it with the impact, sending the pillar tumbling to the ground with the blow.

She whirled - ready for a counterattack. Well, a counterattack was what she got - but it came faster than should have been possible. Veil had always had speed on her side - because it was _her_ job to blip in and out of the mortal world, and zip around from spot to spot in a fight like a ghost.

But she had barely registered that her blow had missed the mark, before a crushing impact hit her side, sending her flying across the courtyard once more. She impacted the ground and slid to a stop, and she vaguely noticed the bloody streak she left on the stones as they slowed her trajectory.

He stood there, looking as nonplussed as ever, perfect tendrils of blond hair wisping about his face.

 _No. Fuck you, if you think this is how it's going to end-_ she swore in her mind as she struggled to stand. Everything hurt. Cracked ribs, no doubt. Broken wrist - maybe. Bleeding badly. What was the worst thing that he'd do to her? Kill her? It made Veil laugh aloud - and it was her laugh that drew even the slightest reaction from him - the barest narrowing of his crimson eyes. It wasn't in anger - but confusion.

Veil gave up holding onto her bloody wound - and wiped the blood from her mouth with a clean spot on the back of her hand. Adrian had changed - what had hit her wasn't his usual self. It hit like a freight train. It seems like the castle had done more than just 'corrupt' him. It had given him a great deal of power to go along with it.

She couldn't throw her soul at him - she couldn't disappear into the spirit world. But like hell she was going to give up. Veil charged at him again - using her adrenaline, her hurt and her anger, to give her the strength even to move. She let out a battle cry as she did, swinging the glaive for his head.

He merely shut his eyes - and as the glaive should have cleaved him in two - he disappeared once more. The force of the swing made her stagger to a stop, and she whirled, in time for him to place the flat of his palm in an open-fisted strike, straight to her midsection.

The blow sent her backwards, smashing into the stone of a pillar. The hit knocked her weapon from her hands, and left her leaning there, only standing by sheer force of will alone. Tears sprang to her eyes - tears of rage, of frustration, not of pain.

Adrian looked… untouched. Utterly above everything that was happening. She was battered, beaten and bloody - and he was a perfect statue. As as untouchable as the stars above her. Veil pushed herself away from the stone, and forced herself to walk to him - and kept her back straightened. Kept her head high. Kept from doubling over in the pain that wanted to send her to the ground with every step.

Block by block, she made her way back to him. He did not move as she approached, and only watched her with the same, empty expression.

"Answer me one thing Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes," she said, her voice straining through the pain. "And by the wrath of all the gods above and below, _do not lie to me-"_ she ground out through her teeth. Her vision went white in pain as the wound in her side made itself known angrily - and she sent her hand back to clutch at it, as if it would somehow keep all the blood where it should be, and not spilling out down her leg as it currently was.

She let herself pull in a breath before speaking. She wanted to not let this sound like a weak plea. It wasn't. This wasn't a begging damsel in distress. She was a fighter, and she'd be respected as one. Veil pressed her shoulders back once more, even as much as it hurt to do so. She lifted her head, and let her dark eyes settle on his crimson ones before she let the words leave her. "Do you love me?"

Adrian was silent for a long time - the only movement on him was the breeze that continually whipped his coat around his body, or his hair around his face. His hand had settled upon the hilt of his sword, resting it there with no intention of drawing it. He did not need it, to beat her to a pulp - he had proven that much already.

It wasn't really a question of if he loved her - she knew that he did, or at least… used to. Before the castle brought him back as what she saw before her. She was asking him something else. Just as he had hidden the depth of his pain in his simple reasoning behind attacking her - because he had wanted to. No - because he had fed a hunger that he would have denied any other day of his waking life. Because the castle had drowned his self control in the fury and breadth of its hunger.

She, in turn, had hidden a deeper question behind her own. _Do you really want me to leave?_ He could lie to her, say 'no,' deny his love - and she would walk away from here. Say yes, and he knew she would never leave.

It felt as though all the world hung in the balance - even the breezed seemed to stop blowing, waiting for Adrian to respond, and let time click forward from its frozen second upon the clock.

"Yes," was his simple, quiet reply. His frozen countenance cracked, even if barely, and she saw a hint of the sorrow behind the scenes. But it was gone, a moment later.

Veil moved closer to him, and raised her hand to touch his face again - or rather, she tried.

She had just nearly let her fingers brush his face, before the wound in her side lost its patience with her, and let her know all at once how very displeased it was with her. Her knees gave out as the world upended - as everything just seemed to fall out of focus.

She must have passed out. The courtyard was gone when she opened her eyes. Instead, she was lying on… on a bed. An extravagant, if tastefully decorated, Rococo piece. With posts that nearly reached the ceiling, and heavy curtain drapes that were pulled back to the posts, and held there with thick, corded and golden ropes. At least she didn't _die_ this time, she thought to herself, as she felt no cold chasing itself out of her limbs. Small favors.

Veil put her hand to her side - and with a jolt, realized she wasn't wearing a shirt. She sat up quickly - too quickly for the opinion of some, as an arm snapped around her and pulled her back down to the pillowed surface.

She hadn't been resting her head on a pillow - she had been resting her head on Adrian, resting in the crook of his shoulder where his arm and chest met. He was lying next to her - one arm around her ribs. He had pulled her back down to him, to place her head back on his chest. "What the _fuck-"_ she started, and tried to sit up again.

The dhampir let out a low chuckle - if he was still even half human, after all - and he sat up as well, but did not release her. In fact, he pulled her off balance with his motion, and she fell back into his lap with a squeak - looking up at him. She was now lying with her upper body on his thighs, looking up at his idly smirking face.

She growled and shoved at him, and tried to sit up. When a hand pressed her back down, she punched at him. His hands caught her wrists in his as he laughed again - and pinned her wrists up over her head with one of his, trapping them against the bed on the other side of his lap. This left her arched over his leg, and he looked down at her, and scanned her body with an appreciative noise in the back of his throat.

The sudden shift of the situation made her cheeks flush, and it wasn't missed by him. He let his fingers slowly run along her neck, up to her face. His fingertips were light against her, and a sharp juxtaposition to the tight grasp around her wrists that kept her pinned there over his lap.

"You should have fled," he said to her quietly, stroking her cheek with a thumb, as his hand settled along her jaw. It was a tender, loving caress. "I will bring you nothing but pain…"

There was such sorrow in his voice. Such sadness, such self loathing. His eyes - still crimson - seemed to hold flecks of gold in them in certain light. This was still her Adrian. Even if the ratios had changed - even if the castle had him… it was still the man she knew and had fallen in love with.

"I don't know if you've noticed," she said cheekily. "I can take a _lot of pain._ It just fully depends on who's dealing it out." She lifted her head to smirk at him, falling back to her old armor of quippy remarks in times of duress.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, surprised that she was flirting with him at a time like this - even if she was bent over his legs in a very compromising position. A sudden look of predatory hunger flashed over his face, and the hand at her cheek wandered down between the valley of her breasts.

His hand trailed lower, the soft touch of his fingertips raising goosebumps on her skin. He chuckled deep in his throat at her unbidden physical response, and he ran his hand to her side - where her wound was. Or rather, where it had been. "Your clothing was matted with blood. I removed it to spare you having to _peel_ it off when it dried there."

"Thanks. Now, are you going to let me up?" she asked - not entirely sure that she wanted him to.

It was amazing, how quicksilver they were. One moment, fighting - the other, he had her arched over his lap, at his mercy. And she… loved it. Loved every _second_ of it. She could fight him - struggle, try to disappear into the spirit world. But she loved the game of give and take between them - and lord knows she'd make him pay for all of this soon enough.

"I don't think I would like to," he observed, his crimson gaze trailing down her body once more. His hand slid across her stomach - and she felt her muscles twitch under his caress. Not even when he had been consumed by hunger, did look like a wolf like he did now. And after their altercation - it gave the metaphor new meaning.

Trapped as she was - bent over his legs in his lap and her arms up over her head - she couldn't get any purchase to push him off. His hand slid back up her body to cup her breast in his hand, and squeeze it in his grasp.

Veil squirmed, and let out a small noise in her throat as he did. He looked down at her hungrily - still smirking as she writhed under his attentions. He kneaded her in between his fingers - slowly, but not gently. Savoring the expression on her face as he brought her pain and pleasure both.

His hand wrapped around the thin fabric connecting the center of her bra, and with a harsh gesture, he tore the fabric in two - snapping the fabric and letting him grasp her now, skin to skin - with nothing troublesome in between.

Veil arched and writhed against him - letting out a mewl in her throat as he twisted one of her nipples between his fingers. The look on his face was one of pure hunger - and equal measures of pure delight at the feast before him. It looked like he wanted to devour her whole.

His hand finally stopped its assault on her tender flesh, and slipped down her stomach, sliding under the band of her jeans, and quickly finding its way to her hot core. "Ahn!" She let out a choked noise in her throat as his touch lit her skin aflame. Damn it all! He needed to slow down. "Stop-"

"Stop?" he chuckled darkly. "Oh, my love… I shall not. Nor-" his eyes slid half shut as he groaned at the feeling of her on his hand - and she let out a small cry as two of his chill fingers delved inside of her. He nearly shuddered at the sensation, and his crimson eyes were half-lidded, heated with passion as they met hers once more. "-do I truly believe you wish me to do so."

Fear and excitement in equal parts fought for control of her. Christ - didn't she want this? Didn't she want to see him snap?

He moaned low in his throat again as he drove his fingers deeper into her body, and her higher toned cry matched his, and she arched further against him. "I could lose myself in the heat of you…" he purred in his throat, as the hand around her wrists tightened posessively.

Even how much she was loving this - even how much her body cried out for him, relishing in the pain and pleasure the brought, the feeling of his cold fingers buried inside her body - she wasn't about to let him have his way. She vanished - disappearing into the spirit world.

He jumped - startled at her sudden evaporation. Veil reappeared, standing near the bed. She ditched her torn bra, letting it fall to the floor. She'd fight him half-naked. Whatever. Nothing he hadn't seen before.

Adrian rose from the bed - climbing from it gracefully like some great jungle cat. His expression was one of dark enjoyment in the hunt - his eyes glittering with malevolence. "How many times can you run from me - when you are already so close to spent, I wonder?"

"You think you can beat me up, and then make it all better by some heavy petting?" she laughed - challenging him. She must be crazy, baiting him. But in a sudden revelation, she realized… Christ, she was enjoying this. Loved the danger this brought - the brutality of it. "You have some serious apologizing to do."

"Once again… I think not." He stalked towards her, and she took a step back away from him.

"Adrian…" she warned him - feeling her heart pound in her chest like a drum. He wasn't wrong. She didn't dare make too many crosses back into the spirit world - not with her having been through a fight with him, and nearly dying. Besides, there was nowhere else she'd rather be.

"That is," he continued to muse to himself as he stalked towards her, following her step by step as she retreated away from him. His pale lips spread into an amused smile. "Unless you are enjoying this, as much as I."

Veil squeaked in surprise as his slow stalking of her escalated - as he was a blur of motion that had her by the upper arms, and pressed her up against the wall. It wasn't terribly gentle, and she let out an 'unf' at the impact.

One thing she was grateful for, in some strange way - is that he never pulled his punches with her. Literally and figuratively. He never felt the need to go 'easy' on her, because she was a woman. In some weird, messed up way, it was surprisingly forward thinking of the man - to hit her as hard as he'd hit anyone else.

The thought was a fleeting one as he released her arms to cup her face in his hands, and his lips descended on hers with bruising hunger. It left her reeling as she felt his fangs nip at her lips. He left jolts of pain in his wake as she tasted iron on her tongue - and he let out a low moan against her as he too, tasted the blood that he had brought from her tender skin. He turned his head to demand entrance to her mouth with his tongue, and she - breathless and feeling railroaded, was unable to refuse. The ferocity of his kiss made her almost melt into him - almost made her surrender to the possessiveness in him.

Adrian broke the kiss slowly - only to let his tongue trail along the tiny pinpricks he had left behind, watching through heated, half-lidded eyes as her wounds healed, leaving behind only a tingle and a memory of their presence.

Veil is gasping for air - her heart pounding in her ears, her chest heaving against him as she tries to fill her aching lungs. "Adrian," she begged quietly. "Wait… just _wait-"_

"Why?" he asked her, his voice a faint breath of cool air against her lips that seemed to burn from his attentions. He pressed up against her, and she couldn't stay the moan in her throat. He smirked against her skin, his hand moving to comb through her sapphire hair. "Tell me why…"

His voice was so low, it was more of a rumble in his chest than anything else. God, what that did to her. What _he_ did to her. Her urge to fight won - as it always did. She slipped her right arm under his left, and used the leverage to bounce his face off the wall beside her. She followed the path of her right arm and ducked around him. She backed away from him - very aware that she was still very much half-naked. And defenseless against something of his power. He could end this in a gesture, if he really wanted to - he had proven that in the courtyard where he laid her out without even trying.

Adrian was leaning a hand against the wall, holding his face with something one step away from a snarl. "Whatever was _that_ for?"

"You attack me as a wolf. You tell me to leave here, and never to come back. You beat me half to a bloody pulp, and now you're… now we're like this. You have to admit that isn't exactly normal."

"'Normal?'" he laughed low in his throat.

"Bad choice of words, fine, but-" Veil let out a shriek as he was on her in another unpredictable blur of movement. One hand clutched at her hair, the other at her hip, drawing her flush against him. For a moment, she thought he was going to bite her again - but his crimson, heated gaze never traveled to her throat.

"I assure you… I am of my own mind. If perhaps… consumed by need such as I have never known..." he leaned his head down to hers, and let his lips trail along her ear. It left her trembling in his grasp, and he let his teeth graze along her earlobe. It sent her nerves alight - and she twitched against him. "And it is with you that I wish beyond measure to sate what _demands_ to be fed." The hand at her hip tightened, almost painfully. "I fear I will not accept 'no' for an answer."

It was a threat and a promise both in the same breath. He began to kiss along her jawline - a slow, sultry series of kisses that almost threatened to drive her mind empty of all thought. When his lips met her lips again, his kiss was slower - gentler than before. But no less insistent. There would be no turning him away.

He began pacing her backwards, not breaking the kiss, or the hold he had in her hair and against her waist - and it wasn't until the backs of her legs and her lower back touched furniture that she understood why. She was pinned now between it and him - and her hand went to grab whatever it was. A table or a dresser, by the feel of it. He slipped a knee between her legs, and she was now pinned between him and the wood surface - which left his hand free to roam away from her hip.

It slipped up her stomach, and cupped her breast in his hand, kneading it eagerly in his grasp. When he pinched and rolled her sensitive bud between his fingers, she cried out sharply against his lips. He broke the kiss to watch her, and let his other hand slide down from her hair to mirror the other.

Veil let out a small, shuddering breath as he watched her with rapt attention - as if memorizing every expression she made, every reaction as he stroked and squeezed at her. As he struck a nerve, she would twitch and grip the table harder with one hand, the other at his elbow, as if holding on for dear life.

Hadn't she wanted him to _take_ what he wanted? To stop being so terribly shy around her? Hadn't she encouraged this? Wasn't she loving every moment of it? There was no denying what he brought out in her. What his touch did to her. What his threat had done to her stomach - flipping it over and tying it into a knot of excitement. But she lived on her defiance - and she knew that just as much as she loved his commanding need - he loved her struggle against him.

It was for that reason that she growled in her throat and struggled sharply against him - and he grinned as he pressed firmer against her - pressing the swell of his need against her as he nearly bent her backwards over the piece of furniture as he groped and caressed at her skin.

One of his hands slid up to her face, and he let his thumb trace along her parted lower lip - as she breathed heavily for air - her head still reeling from his affections. It was only then that his eyes trailed lower, to follow the path that his thumb drew along her skin.

He leaned in towards her ear, his voice breathy and thick. "How I have wanted to feel your lips once more…"

Her heart pounded in her ears in a maddening tempo from his words - at the innuendo that was there. He stepped away from her and backwards towards the poster bed - and stopped, a pace away from the plush surface.

He looked the role of a dark prince, right now. Long, platinum hair falling about his face and shoulders in waves - barely a shade different than his pale hair, and white buttoned shirt. His eyes were still the frightening crimson tone of a vampire lost in his lust for blood. Or instead for - as he so aptly pointed out - flesh. _Her_ flesh.

She must be quite the lewd image - leaning against his dresser, grasping the edge with both hands, out of breath - her own sapphire hair falling down her naked chest. He seemed to very much appreciate the view in front of him - his crimson eyes glinted dangerously.

There was no denying that she wanted him - more than anything. Her body was a jumble of emotions and undoubted arousal. She walked up to him, making the choice that she knew she was going to make, all along. Even if he wasn't in his 'right mind,' this was _Adrian._ The man she loved.

As she drew close to him - having chosen this of her own doing - his hand tangled in her hair, and forced her down. She let out a small cry as he pushed her down onto her knees in front of him.

His own arousal was straining hard against his pants - and the sight of it had her swallowing thickly in her throat. His hand in her hair moved to gently rest against the back of her head, and began to gently stroke her hair - the gentle, coaxing gesture a far cry from his insistent dominance just a split second prior.

Her hands slid up his thighs, and he let a small sigh escape his lips as her hands slid over the bulge outlined in the black fabric. Veil leaned her head in to him - and let her lips press against him through his pants - drawing an impatient noise from him. Adrian had other plans, it seemed. He joyfully suffered through her teasing once before - but he was in no mood to suffer through it this time.

His hand quickly worked to undo the clasp of his pants, ending the painful restriction of his arousal. The hand at her head continued to gently stroke her hair - combing through it from time to time, curling her long sapphire hair around dexterous fingers. It was in sharp contrast to the heated, inarguable _need_ that demanded her attention.

She let her tongue slowly run up his length - feeling his cold skin under her. It throbbed, even though his temperature was so much lower than hers. The slick, wet slide of her tongue against him has him letting out a low, broken noise from this throat. Like a man in a desert with his first taste of water. He was so deeply in need of release - so deeply in need to feed the hunger in him, that wanted violence - wanted flesh and blood.

She let her tongue slide slowly down and along him, cupping what she did not have within reach of her mouth with her hand, to keep the warmth where she left it, if even for a moment. She let her mouth slowly wander back up - still insisting on teasing him as much as he'd allow it. Veil let her tongue curl around the tip of him, feeling him twitch and spasm underneath her, as she touched a nerve.

The hand in her hair paused and faltered - as his crimson eyes slid shut, unable to focus after the touch of her mouth against him. But his euphoric slide into a passive state didn't last long. His eyes cracked open, just barely - to look down at her. He began to loop her hair around his fingers - around and around, until he had a firm grasp of her.

"Words to not describe how beautiful you are…" His words were gentle and loving, even as his hand tightened in her hair painfully - causing her to cry out. That was the moment he needed - and her cry turned into a low moan as he slipped his length past her lips with a driving force.

He knew how far he could go with her - and he didn't hesitate to press himself down her throat and to the hilt - her nose pressed up against his body. A deep and broken keening noise left him as he kept a hand against the back of her head, pressing himself harder against her, as if he could somehow go even further. He was gasping for air himself, his chest heaving.

Veil could only let out a series of muffled, gagged sounds against him - which were met by a choked, low moan from the man over her. His body was shuddering - spasming against her, inside of her - as he pressed himself into her until there was nothing left. He seemed fascinated at the sight of it, crimson eyes dark in ecstasy.

Adrian let out a low, throaty growl, and pulled himself back slowly, only to push himself back down into her and to the hilt once more. Pressing hard against her, before withdrawing until he had nearly left her lips. Again and again, he withdrew and pushed himself back into her throat - barely giving her a moment to pull in as much air as she could before he chased it away once more.

He had seemed to regain his control of himself - and his moans were falling from him quietly, in wavering breaths. As if knowing that she would pass out, if he continued at a maddening speed, he forced himself into a steady rhythm, unhurried, as he pressed her head back onto him and his hips forward again. Her hands were pressed against his thighs - trying to push him away to breathe - but it was useless. He was a force of nature - too strong for her to fight. Even if she wanted him to stop - she couldn't deny that feeling him in her - feeling him _take_ her - made her body ignite in desire.

Isn't this what she wanted, after all? For him to 'cut loose?' To take from her, whatever he wanted - whenever he wanted it? God, the idea of him really and truly losing control, made her tremble. Hadn't she wanted to see what that was like?

Veil let herself stop pushing him away - to let her hands against his thighs relax, to gently grasp him instead of fighting. When it all came down to it - she trusted him. He wouldn't ever hurt her. Not _really._ Not in any way that mattered.

"Yes… that's it. Good," he moaned from above her. He let his hand relax the grasp on her hair as he pushed himself once more down into her until she couldn't breathe. He held himself there, before with a deep snarl, he pulled himself free of her. Her eyes slid shut as she felt air fill her burning lungs with a gasp.

She fell back onto her heels, still kneeling, her hand going to her lips - shuddering as her mind struggled to catch up - her lungs doing the same with the lack of air.

He laughed down at her, darkly, a sound she barely recognized from him. The hand in her hair twisted, and yanked her up to standing - and she squeaked as he did. Lips met hers, fiery and hungry - before she was staggering forward as he turned her, and nearly threw her towards the edge of the bed.

She stumbled and nearly fell onto the bed, bent over it and catching it with her hands. He was behind her, suddenly - and she felt his hand wind its way into her hair, and yank her back up until she was pressed against his chest. Veil winced in pain, but even still her lips parted in a low breathy noise of pleasure as he pinned her against him with a hand on her lower stomach.

The hand wandered lower until it undid the clasp of her pants, and now with more room for him, slipped his hand once more down into her clothing - finding any proof he needed that she was, in fact, enjoying this just as much as he was.

Instead of a gloating laugh or a sarcastic remark, he turned her face to meet him, and kissed her with a fiery passion that caught her off guard and left her breathless and her heart pounding in her ears. She cried out against his lips as he delved his fingers back into her hot core, and he moaned low against her at the sensation. His icy touch made her writhe against him, and nearly twist out of his grasp.

With a growl against her lips, he threw her forward once more - and the sudden movement sent her doubled over the edge of the bed. With one stiff yank, he had her stripped of her clothing. Her head spun with how quickly things happened - one moment he was kissing her, the next, she was kneeling on the bed, watching as he stripped himself of his own clothes. Her throat went dry, watching his nude form slip onto the bed next to her.

He was _perfect._

Built like a jungle cat - all lithe muscle with not a movement spent without great skill and care. He cradled her face in his hands, and tilted it up to kiss her - his blond hair falling along her cheeks and shoulders.

The kiss was a momentary pause - a respite in time against the hunger that consumed him. It was tender - careful - it did not trouble her with the fangs she could feel against her lips. It was euphoric - and seemed to want to kiss away all the suffering she had ever felt.

And as soon as it had started, it ended. His hunger _would_ be sated.

The hands that cupped her face moved to her shoulders, and half turned - half threw her down. She squeaked - and let out a startled cry as he simply manhandled in whatever way he wanted.

She was on her knees, facing away from him - and he had bent her over. She tried to sit back up - tried to whirl and struggle against him - but a hand on her back, in between her shoulder blades, pressed her unforgivingly down into the mattress.

Veil felt him shift to kneel between her legs, and felt something press against her entrance - something cold, something hard. She whimpered, and her hands fisted into the sheets. She squirmed against him, which only brought out a small moan from the man who was looming over her. She could feel the barest touch of his hair against the skin of her back.

The tender kiss had been asking for forgiveness. For what he _had_ done - and for what he was _about_ to do.

His hand grasped onto her hip, and she let out a sharp cry - nearly a scream - as he rammed into her with all the strength he had. Her mind went white in pain and pleasure both, and she let out another, breathless cry. Beneath the noises she was making she could hear his own broken sounds of total ecstasy. Her back arched and she writhed, trying to squirm or fight. But his hand on her back kept her pinned - and didn't let her budge.

It was then that he began to move - began to take from her what he wanted. And Christ, he made good on the threat. With every sharp thrust into her body, her mind went blank. Small cries escaped her each time he bottomed out inside of her. This was like nothing she'd ever felt before - and her mind was overcome with sensation as he held her against the sheets, supple beneath him, even as her hands clenched, twisting the thin fabric between her fingers.

Everything else was driven away and out of her mind except for the feeling of him and the unforgiving, unrelenting tempo at which he pistoned in and out of her body. Her own noises were matched with his own - bouncing between low moans and growls of pleasure.

Suddenly, everything stopped, with him buried still deep inside her. Veil was gasping for air - her body on fire, alight and aching, her nerves twitching for more, confused and startled by his abrupt halt.

Adrian's hand around her hip tightened as he drove himself down into her to the hilt - enough to make her arch her back and push up against the hand that kept her pinned. He released her - and instead the arm that held her down, wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her upwards.

The arm wrapped around her throat to press her opposite shoulder against him - not to choke her - but to keep her pinned there. His other hand stayed on her hip, and splayed across her stomach. It slid up her body, up and over her breasts, and cupped her face - turning it to him. He kissed her - a fiery, ardent and pleasure-drunk gesture. It was then that he resumed his attentions to her - and she cried out against his lips as he began to withdraw from her only to thrust in once more. They came out only as muffled noises of pure ecstasy as he assaulted her now with shorter, harder strokes.

Her arm reached behind them to wrap around his neck, to draw him closer to her - to tangle her hand in his blond hair. She wanted to kiss him - wanted to let him sink his tongue into her mouth. Wanted to taste him against her lips. He moaned loudly against her at the gesture. Her mind was reeling - teetering on the brink of never having a thought again as he took his fill from her - and she couldn't have loved every second of it any more.

His hand on her cheek was almost holding her face there - pinned against him, as he let his tongue slip around hers, tracing her lips. His hand slid down after a moment to wrap both of his arms around her waist, and pull her hips back against his. He drove into her with a harsh impact - and the kiss broke as she tilted her head back against his shoulder, crying out in pleasure.

He growled against the skin of her shoulder as he drove himself into her with an unforgiving force.

"Yes, oh god - nh! Adrian-" she gasped weakly, turning her head towards him and feeling his hair brush against her face as her body was overcome with pleasure - wracked with ecstasy as he sent her wheeling over the edge, her body writhing and squirming in his arms.

Still, he didn't relent - his head nuzzling into the side of her face as he let out a throaty growl as he drove himself into her, again and again, sending her over the edge again and again with each impact. It left her breathless, and unable to speak - unable to even cry out as he took his fill from her.

Veil was nearly limp in his arms - only holding onto him weakly now for dear life as he let one hand drift back up from her waist to cup her face - to hold it against his as he kissed her, even as his growl turned into a muffled roar as she felt him thrust into her and press her down against him so that he was buried in to the hilt - making her twitch from her oversensitive state and from pain as he filled her. Veil could feel him spasm and twitch - his whole body wracked with his own ecstasy as he bit back a cry of release as he throbbed inside of her.

It was then, only as she felt the rippling muscles in his shoulders relax, that she let her own body let go, limb by limb, tendon by tendon.

He unwrapped himself from her slowly, but didn't leave her side. Instead, he gently guided her to lay down on her back, and he hovered over her, lying at her side, propped up on his elbow, his other arm resting on her other side, caging her in.

Adrian kissed her again - tenderly this time, even as they were both struggling for breath. Even as the blood was pounding and drumming in her ears. His lips worked over hers, kissing her as if to kiss it all away, as if begging for forgiveness.

It was then that she gently slipped her hand up to his face to stop him - opening her eyes, as much as she wished she could just leave them closed. He looked down at her - lidded crimson eyes, flecked in gold, watching hers with equal parts satisfaction and worry.

"I love you," she whispered up to him. "And that," she said gently, leaning up to kiss him once before finishing the sentence with a grin. "Was goddamn _amazing."_

Startled confusion and disbelief flickered over his face for a brief moment before he seemed to remind himself of who he was dealing with. "You are impetuous and incorrigible." He shifted to pull her somewhere more comfortable for them both, as they were both clearly spent and in need of rest.

"You love it, don't pretend you don't," she complained at him with a huff as he pulled her up against his side.

"I never said anything to infer otherwise," he said with a tender kiss to her forehead.

She curled up into his chest - feeling the cool skin under her cheek, as he curled his arms around her. He had changed - that was certain. Under the surface now boiled a sea of emotions he could barely keep in check. But he was _still_ Adrian. She reached up, and gently ran her fingers across his cheek, stroking him gently. His crimson eyes fluttered shut at her caress, and leaned into her hand as the stoic mask he wore became one of peace instead of one of sorrow - or now, of malevolence.

She would keep him in balance. For as long as she could, she'd help him keep the scales leveled. There wasn't a torture she could imagine that he could put her through, that she wouldn't endure with a smile. Even with what he was now - this 'corrupted' creature, as he had called himself… she still trusted him with her life.

She tucked her head under his chin and let her hand fall gently against the pillow next to him, and let herself enjoy the moment of peace, and rest.


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey all! I hope you're enjoying the direction this is going! I do really love hearing all your thoughts on the story as we go. We're gearing up towards the finale, FYI. Also - I doodled Veil. This thing HATES putting in links, but it's on imgur, if you go to their main page and type ( 9LVCqhO .jpg ) after the last slash. I'll also paste the link into my profile. I might do another one of her and Adrian, in black and white. Color is hard. :/**

 **I'm not the best figure drawing artist in the world, but I had a LOT of fun drawing the castle in the background. Squiggly lines in silhouette FTW! :)**

* * *

Waking up to feeling his fingers tracing the lines etched onto her back, was how she decided she wanted to wake up every day for the rest of eternity.

There was something about Adrian's fascination with the ceremonial magic circles drawn onto her skin, that made her heart go warm and flutter each time he touched them. She found them revolting - or at least, disgraceful. But his fingertips continuously circled the one between her shoulder blades like it was the most enthralling thing in the world. He would trace the outer circle before running absentmindedly along the swirls and lines that created the inner symbols.

Veil wondered why he found them so interesting. To her, they were a constant and difficult reminder that she was only just a homunculus - an imitation of a human, never to be the real deal. At her core, she was little different than the wooden puppets that Alistair commanded.

But they weren't disgusting to him - in fact, they seemed to be the opposite. Maybe - just maybe, they were so interesting because they were part of her. Part of what she was.

Last night, Adrian had - in an utterly perfect round about way - told her that he loved her. He had tried to send her away - to save her from himself. To save her from the monster that Vlad had made out of his son. The thought made her heart stick in her throat.

"What troubles you?" he said, his voice barely a whisper. He must have felt her tense unconsciously. The hand on her back stilled its idle tracing to lay his palm against her skin. There was apprehension in his voice, as if he was still worried it had something to do with _him._

Veil shifted, and wrapped her arm tighter over his chest, and hugged him to her. She didn't lift her head to look at him yet, and instead kept it where it lay on his chest, listening to the quiet drum of his heart. He responded with a gentle squeeze in return.

"It's been a rough few days… I'm just thinking, is all," she murmured.

"About what?" he pressed, his tone still uneasy.

When she finally lifted her head to look at him, and shift to prop herself up on her elbow, his eyes - crimson, flecked with gold - were creased with concern as he watched her. She slid her hand up from holding him, to gently run her hand along his cheek. His skin was chill to the touch - more so than it had ever been before.

But in those eyes, crimson as they might be - she saw the man she knew. The man she had fallen in love with. In this moment of peace and quiet, it was clear that he was still himself. If maybe now nearly drowning and consumed with a hunger he fought to control. Veil wondered if he'd get the hang of it over time. Vlad certainly seemed to at least have _most_ of his crazed urges tamped down. Well, most of the time, anyway.

Idly, she wondered if Vlad came with his 'resting pissed face' or if the castle had put it there.

Regardless, offering to be Adrian's 'way out' of all his dark needs without harming others… it was how she could share the burden of keeping his head above water. She had a large part to play in why he was now like this.

Adrian was still watching her silently, as she thought about where they now found themselves. They had slept, undisturbed, in what must be Adrian's old private chambers. In her brief glances around the room she had spared the night before - it was clearly decorated in his taste. A suit of armor stood by one wall - and it screamed that it belonged to Adrian the 'Prince of Darkness.'

They were no longer fugitives. No longer unwelcome or hunted. But what that meant… what that _really_ meant… sent a chill up her spine.

The prince had come home.

"Veil…" Adrian asked, his brow furrowing further at her uncharacteristic silence. "If you regret your choice-"

Veil broke him off by kissing him, and she felt the building tension in his shoulders relax, as her gesture eased his sudden nervousness that she was somehow going to abandon him in this moment. "Shut up, pretty boy," she teased him quietly as she broke the kiss. He smirked back up at her, and his eyes slid shut in comfort as she ran her fingers through his platinum hair - curling it around her fingers before combing her hand through it slowly. He seemed to melt into her touch, and she remembered that this kind of contact was still very new to him - something he had, like everything else recently, accepted he'd never have. "I just don't understand what's happened… or why."

"Neither do I. Father said that once we were ready, he would provide us the answers we need. I am simply unwilling to move at the moment," he responded.

She kissed the corner of his mouth, seconding the sentiment, and lifted her head to watch him as she combed her hand gently through his hair once more. "You're still… you. I thought for a while you'd… been possessed."

"As did I." His hand wandered to gently place a curled finger underneath her chin, and the tip of his thumb against the line of her lower lip. His crimson eyes opened to focus on the point where his thumb met her skin. "That which I did to you last night - they pale in the shadow of…" he broke off, searching for the right words. He wasn't a 'talker,' after all. "The actions which I hunger to perform upon 'my prey' - upon _you_... are far more…" he paused, unwilling or unable to continue.

She put her hand against his, and lifted it to let him place the palm of his hand against her cheek. She held his hand there, and leaned into his touch. "I trust you, Adrian. I _love_ you. Whatever you do to me - you can't hurt me. Not in any way that really matters. If it means you stay in control, then - do whatever it takes to keep your head above water. Besides, chances are?" she smirked coyly at him, and moved to kiss the palm of his hand. "I'll enjoy it."

Adrian chuckled darkly in his throat, and opened his mouth to respond - when the door to the next room over clicked open, and the sound of footsteps entered the room. A figure appeared in the doorway to the bedroom. Veil's eyes went wide, and she whirled off of Adrian where they lay. If it had been a normal sized bed, she would have been on the floor. As it was, she grasped the sheets and yanked them up over her body.

Adrian sat up, his hand reaching for the sword that lay sheathed and leaning against the nightstand. But his hand faltered as he saw who had entered the room. "Yury..?" His voice was one of wary recognition.

"Master Adrian," the man said with a bow at the waist. His accent was decidedly, and very thickly Russian. "I am sorry to wake you. I did not know what you would wish to eat for breakfast, so I brought you your old standard." The man was dressed in trim black pants and a black coat - and a deep orange shirt, the color of fall leaves. He was carrying a large silver tray, and he turned his back to them to walk back into the next room over. She heard it clink against the surface of a table. He had the air of a servant - no. Not nearly so jittery. Someone with experience, with dignity. A butler, maybe?

Adrian had a _butler?!_

 _Of course he did,_ she scolded herself mentally and almost slapped her forehead. _He's a fucking prince, you idiot._ She was so used to seeing Adrian the Knight, she had never met any part of Adrian the Prince.

"I did not know what the Lady would enjoy, so… I have an assortment here. Forgive me if it is not to your liking."

Adrian stood up from the bed, slipping out from under the sheets. He picked up his trousers from the floor and slipped them on, tying them at the waist. He had seemed entirely unhurried, utterly nonplussed about his brief nudity with a strange vampire in the other room.

 _Strange to me,_ she reminded herself. _He grew up like this._

"Yury," Adrian began, and walked from the bedroom. "I am… shocked to see you still live." He half-shut the door behind him, allowing her the privacy to spring up out of bed and dress. Well, dress as much as she _could -_ he had snapped her bra, and her shirt was missing. _Damn it all!_ Veil swore under her breath and did the best she could - she picked Adrian's white shirt off of the floor and slipped it on. She ran both of her hands through her blue hair to comb it back, and straighten it out.

"Indeed, Sir - I am happy to return to your service, if you will have me."

"I do not-" Adrian stammered, and paused. "I do not understand the meaning behind all of this. I have not returned with the intention of… I-" he was at a complete loss for words again. Poor boy did not have a script prepared for this unexpected turn of events. She heard him let out a long, heavy sigh as he conceded defeat in attempting to express himself. "It is good to see you, Yury…"

"It brings me much joy to see you as well, Sir," the Russian vampiric butler responded fondly.

Veil peeked out the door, and regretted it instantly as she realized Yury was facing her - and he looked to her - hazel eyes catching hers. So much for hiding. He had neatly kept brown hair, and gentle features. He smiled at her warmly - and the gesture was genuine, or at least really well faked. He bowed at the waist, one hand folded in front of him. Adrian turned to the side to see Veil - and a faint smile crossed his own face at seeing her, with no small amount of amusement flickering in his crimson eyes.

Why? Oh. She must look ridiculous - like a bad college 'morning after' joke - wearing Adrian's shirt, which was far too big for her. The cotton reached her thighs. But Veil was anything but _shy -_ and she prickled at the idea of being seen as uncomfortable or nervous. So she stepped out from the bedroom, and leaned against the door frame.

"My Lady, it is a great honor to meet you. I am Yury, Master Adrian's manservant."

Veil's grinned broadly at the word 'manservant' - and Adrian looked suddenly aware of the fact that she was going to tease him endlessly about this. When Yury stood back up, Veil carefully wiped her amusement off her face. "It's nice to meet you too. Since, y'know… you aren't trying to kill us. I didn't know Adrian had a _manservant._ "

"I understand this situation has taken a strange turn," Yury nodded and began to walk towards the door to leave them. "But I, foolish as it may be, hope for the best. Master Adrian… shall I bring the lady some clothes? I doubt she wishes to wear your wardrobe indefinitely," Yury asked knowingly, with a playful twist of his lips.

 _Cheeky bastard,_ Veil commented in her mind, and couldn't help but grin again. She liked cheeky.

"Huhn?" Adrian snapped back into attention, and if he could have blushed, he probably would have.

"Yes, please. The 'Lady's' clothes were ruined when Pretty Boy over here decided to pick a fight," Veil responded for Adrian, and walked over to the tray of food that Yury had brought in. He had placed it on a wood and glass topped coffee table in front of an elaborately carved, wood-framed sofa. "Thank you for the food."

"My pleasure," Yury responded with the same fond smile and exited, shutting the door with a small click behind him.

Veil sat down on the sofa, and looked around the room. It was elegant and ornate, gorgeous but not _too_ overdone. The room was decorated in black, white, golds and silvers, colors of the fall leaves in amber and deep sepia - and it explained his wardrobe.

She picked up a bunch of grapes from the tray and began to twist them free and pop them into her mouth one at a time. Veil found this window into Adrian's earlier life absolutely fascinating. An image of the man before he was… so in denial of everything he was.

It took her a long time to realize that Adrian hadn't moved - and was standing, staring at the closed door that Yury had used. He had no expression on his face - but he was standing, stiff - his muscles tense. His hands were fists at his sides.

Veil put down the grapes and stood back up, and walked to him - and gently wound her hand around his. Her touch startled him from some kind of reviere - and he jolted. He looked down at her - confused for a moment as if wondering how she had come to be there. Adrian really must have been miles away.

"This is wrong…" he muttered, his expression darkening. Even still, he relaxed his hand enough for her to entwine her fingers into his. "Centuries I have spent, seeking to be rid of this place… And now - to feel _comfort_ at the sight of an old friend..."

He raised his other hand to turn look down at his palm - at the pale skin there, as if something would be written on it. His brow furrowed in anger and hatred as he glared down at himself. "I have in one breath, been _forever_ dragged to its depths and snared in its grasp…"

"Hey-" she tried to distract him, and break him of his growing fury. She stepped in front of him, and let her palms rest against his bare chest. He blinked, his train of thought successfully broken, and his expression softened barely as he flicked his gaze up to her.

The feel of his bare skin under her hands, and him standing there - looking like some dark god, was _really_ making it hard to focus on the important things right now.

Veil let her hands run up to his neck, and clasped her fingers behind it - and pulled his head down to hers. She kissed him gently, and then let her forehead rest against his. "We're in this together," she said quietly. "Just remember that. You're not here alone. We can go, kill your dad - just as we'd planned, and head for the sunset if we want to."

"I do not think it will be so simple," he murmured in response, and lifted his head to kiss her forehead. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her close. They held each other for a long moment in silence before he spoke again, his voice thin and pained. "I would be a tyrant and visage of slaughter already, were it but for you."

"I had a big hand to play in this," she said, barely above a whisper again. The guilt raked at her, and she felt it almost like a physical pain. "If it weren't for me, you'd… this'd be all over for you."

He moved them half a step apart so that he could look down at her - but she refused to meet his gaze. A hand under her chin forced the matter, and he looked down at her with such sorrow, it almost broke his heart. "I believed I had no reason to live. That I would accept death with open arms, if it meant the end of my pointless existence. As woe as I am to embrace what I have now become… I am glad for what you did. It came to me as a surprise - that I did not wish to die. That I felt I had a reason to continue on..."

Veil felt her heart stick in her throat at his words. To say that he had found _meaning._ It was her turn to be at a loss for words. She couldn't find anything that made any sense to say - so she did the next best thing.

She threw her arms around his neck in a sudden embrace - and kissed him fiercely. He let a startled noise escape him as he had to step back to keep them both from toppling to the ground.

It was then that her hunger decided to break the mood with an angry rumble from her stomach. Adrian laughed against her, and broke the kiss, his crimson eyes now creased with warmth, not worry. "You foolish thing."

"Not my fault!" she complained, and sighed, settling back down on her heels. "I didn't tell it to do that."

"Eat," he gently pushed her towards the food, and followed a step behind. "We must wait for Yury to return with clothes, regardless."

"What, you don't think I should go into battle with your dad like this?" she held out her arms - his sleeves almost entirely engulfing her hands. "I think I'm ready. I don't know what you're talking about. Totally classy."

Adrian chuckled in his throat and sat down on the plush sofa - and it was clearly a familiar gesture to him that came back without any thought. He had sunk down onto this particular piece of furniture a thousand times. His hand wound around her waist as he descended - and it dragged her down with him. She squeaked as he did, not having expected it.

She landed half sprawled across him, and he was smiling against her skin as he planted a kiss against the spot on her neck just under her ear. It sent shivers through her body, and she slapped his shoulder. "I am _not_ going to have your 'manservant' walk in on us." She snickered at the word.

"And here I thought _you_ were the adventurous one."

Veil's eyes went wide at the entirely uncommon joke from him - and she placed her hand against his forehead as if checking for a fever. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Pah," he playfully flicked her hand away, and leaned back against the sofa, his eyes slipping shut. "This is why I do not attempt humor." God _damn_ he was gorgeous - shirtless still, lying back against the decadent sofa. The black and gold upholstery set off his pale skin like it was a painting sitting next to her, not a real, physical creature.

All she wanted to do was swing her leg over his lap, and have her way with him. But now was not the time. She picked up the bunch of grapes again and slunk against his side, enjoying the embrace. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, before letting it fall back against the sofa once more.

This was nice. _This could be normal,_ she thought, popping a grape into her mouth. 'Normal' - as if they could be anything anywhere near the word. A homunculus 'daughter of death' and the ex-half-vampire, full-vampire-now, son of Dracula. She chased the thought away as quickly as it came. It was conceited, to even let herself _ponder_ the idea that they might be 'safe.' To think that their suffering was over.

Richard, her best friend in the world - had killed Adrian. Alistair still roamed, and she knew he still had a hand to play. Dracula's armies may have returned from torching the world - but he was _still_ the enemy. He had killed Conrad and Gabriel without flinching. As for bringing Adrian back to life? Dracula had only been protecting his son - and any other reason wasn't going to be a good one. Who knows what he had planned for them…?

She shut her eyes, and let herself try and enjoy the moment. And try not to dread what came next.

* * *

Their moment of respite had ended.

Adrian watched as Veil donned the clothing that Yury had so faithfully brought for her. Yury had been his friend and teacher for most of the dhampir's young life. A servant, yes - but in all the fashion that mattered, family as well.

A reminder from his father, no doubt. That he had more history within these walls than he cared to admit. That even though some of his world was but dust, most remained. That denial of this place, came with denial of many for which he had at one point in his past, cared deeply. Indeed, it appeared he still did. Yury had been glad to see him - and Adrian found himself the same. How many more familiar, 'friendly' faces from his past remained?

His eyes trailed up Veil's back - at the five circles and ancient writing that decorated her skin. The marks that kept her soul attached to her body - the method by which the clay form was given life. A homunculus, indeed - but one that could claim more right to humanity by behavior alone than he could ever have done.

Adrian found himself paused by her beauty for a moment, as she shrugged on the coat that had been provided by her. She was resolute - her features set in cold determination as she pushed a strand of sapphire hair behind her ear. The clothing was older in style perhaps than anything she would choose to wear on her own - but it fit her - both metaphorically and literally.

Veil was a constant reminder to him, that the future was not set. She had been built from dust and clay to serve the pleasures and egotism of an archdemon. It was she, who fought for her freedom to decide her fate, and no one else. So full of righteous fury - and so full of forgiveness and sympathy all the same.

The blue-haired woman had suffered at his father's hands, a nearly unthinkable torture… and yet, she was iron-willed and unbroken. She was far more willing to accept what he had become, than he - who could barely even process what had happened through the roar of the needs that threatened to consume him.

The reappearance of Yury, the night spent in his old rooms, and the spitfire who stood before him - all seemed to form a clear message in his mind. This place, and by association, he himself - was whatever he decided to make of it. His path was not yet chosen.

He shrugged on his own long coat, and slipped his sword into the sheath at his side. Veil had her glaive slung onto her back, and she walked up to him, her face firm - but her eyes softened as they looked up at him.

It was that small gesture - that tiny, seemingly insignificant moment, that set his heart afire. That the headstrong creature he saw before him would temper its steel at his behest… He would love her until the stars blinked out their last. His hand found hers - and he drew her close. Not for an embrace - not this time. There was a far more foreboding task to be done.

It was time for answers.

* * *

Veil felt the ground rematerialize under her feet. She staggered over a step, and put her arm out for balance. "Shit," she muttered under her breath, and let out a small laugh. "Yee-haw, that's a hell of a ride."

"You will adjust to it in time," a voice spoke. It had not been Adrian. Looking up, she saw that they were in the throne room of the castle. There was no doubt about the purpose of this room. It was to prove the Glory and the Power of the master of the castle.

The soaring columns faded into the darkness of the ceiling that was higher than the light could reach - crimson being the dominant color of the theme in the room, with the flickering fire and the blood-red carpet that lead to the throne that was sculpted to resemble the demons and monsters that resided in this place.

Upon it, sat a figure, cast in shadow. He needed no introduction. But it _wasn't_ Dracula that had spoken. It had been Lyon, the priest - who stood by the throne, his hands clasped behind his back.

Adrian took two steps away from her, and drew his sword - and she followed his lead, by taking her glaive off of her back. Adrian could wipe the floor with Lyon now, without a doubt - but _not_ both of them at the same time.

"Why is he here?" Adrian asked his father.

"He said he feels 'invested,'" Dracula responded with no small amount of mockery directed towards the priest He stood up, and stepped into the light - the pyres burning in the cauldrons along the base of the columns casting his chiseled features in sharp light - and making the fiery embers of his crimson eyes glint all the more.

Dracula was intimidating - and it was very much on purpose. He had crafted all of this to suit him. He stepped towards the edge of the stairs that lead up to the platform his throne occupied, and he watched them both with a hard, impassive expression. If she had to guess at his feelings in the moment, it would be 'I'm an asshole and I hate everything.'

 _Like father, like son,_ she commented dryly to herself. She gripped her glaive harder, but didn't rush to attack. They were here for answers first - _then_ a fight.

"Why, father?" Adrian began, walking towards the middle of the room. His sword was drawn, but the tip lowered. "Why unleash your armies upon the world? Why begin all this madness?"

"I grew weary of idle threats. I decided that I would play my last hand upon the board. But as always, my plans went awry."

"Last hand…?" Adrian stopped his approach, and she could hear the confusion in his voice.

"I am tired, Adrian..." Vlad walked down the stairs to approach his son, stopping a few feet away. His expression changed from its cold facade for a moment - showing the sadness that loomed underneath, if briefly. "I wish to end this farce."

Adrian sighed deeply as if dealing with a child. "You know your true death will never come."

"My soul shall never see heaven nor hell, that is true."

When Vlad looked past Adrian to look at her - she suddenly felt very unexpectedly pushed onto the center stage. The spotlight swung her way, and she didn't know her lines. Adrian followed his father's gaze to her - his brow creased in confusion.

"I- uh-" Veil stammered, and lifted her glaive as if the attention was an enemy she could fend off.

Adrian's face smoothed as his confusion turned to one of horror. He looked back to Dracula, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. "You cannot possibly be _serious,_ father!" he shouted angrily, but with a sense of fear that tugged at the edges of his voice.

Vlad smiled piteously down at his son. "Ah, but I am not."

"Hold up, just hold up-" Veil interrupted. "Can anybody tell me what I'm missing here?!"

"All was according to plan, until Asmodeus allowed - nay, _encouraged_ \- that putrid _human_ to murder you…" Vlad's hands turned to fists as his face twisted in anger.

"What have you done…" Adrian's voice was heavy with regret as he put a hand over his face, as if he could wipe away some horrible deed.

"Hello! Anybody want to clue me in?!" Veil yelled, waving a hand over her head as if she had really gone invisible. "I am standing _right here-"_

"This was all a scheme," Adrian interrupted, but did not turn to look at her. "To use you… to end his existence forever."

Veil stopped her angry rant, and lowered the end of her glaive to the ground, as she let the words reel through her mind. What did he mean by that…? Her eyes went wide as it all settled in. "You want me to tear your soul out," she said, her voice barely audible even to herself as she met the vampire king's crimson gaze. "You wanted me to… get angry enough to pitch you into oblivion… That's why you killed the priests."

"One reason among many," Vlad took the moment to point out with a sneer. "But yes. That is why I cast you to Octavius. That is why I forced you to witness the death of your friends. That is why I buried you in a tomb, to suffer at the edge of existence. To create in you such _hatred_ that you would, in your wrath, destroy my soul." He moved to step towards her - but Adrian intervened, side-stepping himself in his father's path.

Veil would have felt oddly touched at his protective gesture - but her mind was too busy toppling over itself. "No. No I won't."

"Would you rather it all be born of cruelty alone? Does not some ulterior motive to my actions make me _less_ of a monster?!" Dracula snarled as he looked down at his son, his face twisted in anger. "All you seek is my destruction - all you seek is my _abhorrible_ presence struck from this world once and for all! And yet, you both look at me with such _disgust_ and _shock_. Pah!" he whirled from them, his cape swirling with the movement as he stalked back towards the stairs that lead to the top of his throne. "You are both hypocrites. Lacking in the conviction of your words."

"Each time you rose, father - I prayed you would awaken in this world with some semblance of _sanity_. That you would give up your hatred of mankind, and give up your war upon the living! Each time, you destroyed that hope, and stilled it within me, one shard at a time until I believed it gone," Adrian stepped towards Vlad, which drew the vampire king to a halt, turning to face the younger vampire.

"I have nothing left, but my hatred," the elder vampire spoke, his voice quiet. "Even my son despises me. I wish to end this pathetic existence. But…" his eyes lifted to Veil's once more. "I could not leave this place, knowing it may fall into hands far worse than mine."

"Asmodeus…" Veil murmured.

"He, or any other," Vlad waved a hand dismissively as he returned to his throne, and slumped upon it - revealing his emotional exhaustion. "Century upon century I have risen, and made no more than a paltry attempt on the destruction of the world. I did what I must to keep my moniker respected, nothing more. Even as you believe I seek the death of all things, it is not true… I have reigned back the power of this place that would seek to flow over the land like a tide of blood." Vlad's glinting eyes were barely visible in the shadows. "Others would not be so _kind._ "

Adrian seemed to follow what was happening a lot faster than she was. He had a few more hundred years of experience with his father's schemes, after all. "Oh, father… What have you done…" he repeated, his voice overcome with sorrow.

The glint of white teeth in the darkness revealed his sarcastic grin. "Is it wrong, to wish to pass on my legacy to my only son?"

Adrian sheathed his sword, and turned towards the exit - towards her. When he did, she saw the look on his face, and it was one of pallid horror - of shock. There was a wide-eyed kind of fear in him that she had never seen before. When she stepped in front of him, and grasped his arms in her hands - he jolted as if he had forgotten she was even there. His crimson eyes focused on hers - and she saw an aching kind of grief.

She searched his face for some kind of answer, and lifted a hand to place it against his cheek. But he pulled away from her. "This was all a lie," he whispered - and she realized he was not speaking to her.

Veil squeaked in surprise as Adrian disappeared - exploding in a swarm of white bats that kareened out of an open window and into the night sky beyond.

"Go after him," Vlad instructed Lyon - who bowed, and silently disappeared in a swirl of mist.

That just left… the two of them.

 _Oh goodie._

"What in _the name of actual fuck was that about?!"_ she shouted at the man upon the throne, who only laughed quietly at her colorful language.

Dracula rose from his seat to approach her once more, now that his son was not there to stop him, and she was suddenly very sorry she had shouted at the king of vampires. She raised her glaive to keep it pointed at the vampire, who stopped his advance. "I mean you no harm."

"Sorry if I have a hard time buying that, seeing as the last time I saw you, you _buried me alive!"_ she hissed her words through her teeth - feeling anger surge up in her. Anger… and fear.

"If you wish to destroy me, you may." Dracula held his hands out at his sides. "You are the only creature upon this world, or any other, who may end my tortured existence."

Veil growled, and ignored his plea for oblivion. "What did Adrian figure out that I didn't?! He put something together, and I want you to draw in the blanks for me."

Vlad sighed, and his face softened, if barely. "I cannot leave my throne empty. It would leave it open for any trespasser, to utilize to the destruction of this world. I may hate the world - but I do not wish to see it burn. Not truly."

"So…?"

"I sculpted events to bring my son here. That I may craft events to build in him someone worthy to take my place. It was time to pass upon him my _legacy._ "

The tip of her glaive clinked on the floor as she felt her hand go weak in shock. "You mean your _curse,"_ she corrected him. "Wait. _Wait-"_ horror threw her eyes wide as she came across the same thought that Adrian must have, moments prior. Adrian would never have taken the throne… He never would have agreed to take charge of the castle - unless…

Unless there was a real threat.

Unless there was someone there to take it - who was far, far worse…

"Asmodeus…" she muttered, and this time her weapon clattered to the ground as it dropped from her hand. "You two… You-" she stammered uselessly.

"We struck an accord." Vlad stepped towards her - and she nearly tripped over herself as she very much wanted not to be near him. "This was all a careful script… until he betrayed me. Until he encouraged that filthy mortal to _murder my son."_ Vlad stilled his approach, and he watched her, fascinated by her in a sudden moment of emotion. "What I did not predict - in all of my careful planning - that you and he, may fall in love… That was, in my false opinion - beyond all comprehension. So I did not take into account what a jealous archdemon may do…"

"Adrian was meant to take the throne… And Asmodeus…"

"Would rescue you from that crypt, and save your mind from the brink of sanity. You would take my soul unto oblivion in your revenge, and he would take you from this place - once again his bride. My son would sit upon the throne as has always been intended."

Everything clicked together in her mind as he spoke - and she saw all the threads that lead them there. Vlad's strange implications - the inexplicable cruelty and the march of his armies. Alistair's speedy reappearance, and his tacit acceptance of her relationship with Adrian. As he had said - it had all been a lie.

It was their love that had screwed it all up in the end.

Richard. Oh christ, what had he done to Richard?!

Veil reached down and picked up her glaive once more, her hand squeezing the hilt for reassurance. "What about Alistair and Richard?"

"Both imprisoned in the depths below," Vlad's face twisted in rage. "I will see them both suffer for what they have done. What Adrian is now… to be upon this world as I am - I had never intended. Such is a selfish cruelty even I find detestable."

"Fuck you," she said as she stepped back away from Vlad. "You… You played us. You played us both. You used Gabriel and Conrad like _toys_."

"They were humans. They are all but puppets."

"This isn't a game!" she shouted as she took another step back. She just wanted to get away from here. From him. "We aren't pawns on your _fucking chess board!"_

"To one as old as I… you are." Veil disappeared - pushed herself into the spirit world. She couldn't deal with this anymore. Vlad merely sighed at her sudden departure and returned to his throne. "Hate me, as was intended. I hope you hold the conviction of your emotions - unlike my son."

Veil ran from the room - through the giant double doors that lead to the cavernous throne room. She appeared in the hallway, and stormed away as fast as she could. The creatures that stood in the hallways - monsters, undead, whatever they were - shrunk back from her. They knew what she was, and they knew she was hideously angry.

She walked until her feet felt like they were going to bleed. She had stormed aimlessly through the castle for hours. Any proof that she needed that the castle was sentient - and had guided her through where _it_ wanted her to go - was in front of her.

The courtyard, filled with monuments to the dead. The one where she… had been buried alive. Veil was entirely sick of things messing with her - creatures like Vlad, Alistair - the castle _itself -_ using her like a fucking pawn.

She howled in rage, letting out a battle cry as she swung her glaive at a nearby statue - the impossibly sharp blade slicing through the rock like it had been made of cheese. The top half of the weeping angel slid down the incline of its new incision, and toppled to the ground as rubble. Veil swung again, crying out more of her rage as she smashed her glaive into what was left of the statue - carving it again into smaller pieces. She kept going, now using the back half of her weapon to smash at the remaining stone until she thought her arms would give out.

Exhausted, panting for breath - she turned around and sat on what was left of the base - holding her glaive with the blunt on the stone, the other end skyward. She held it with both hands, and leant her head down to rest on her arms.

"Oh do tell, what has Count Orlok done to deserve such desecration?" an amused, spectral voice spoke from in front of her.

"Fuck off, death," She said without lifting her head. "I'm not in the goddamn mood."

"Clearly!" he cackled. "And yet, here I am… to see my daughter."

"What is with you assholes and your fucked up family relationships?!" Veil finally raised her head to shoot the floating skeleton an angry glare.

The spectre raised his hand to gesture to the world around him. "Have you bothered to notice where we are?"

Veil sighed heavily and lowered her head. She didn't want to play. Too tired, to worn out - too in shock from what Vlad had revealed to her. To them. This had all been a setup. She had suffered - been _tortured -_ just so Vlad wouldn't have to keep existing. In fact the only good part about this whole thing - her falling for Adrian, and vice versa - had been what 'fucked up' his plan!

Veil had been meant to be back with Alistair - fallen into his arms as his wife once more, when he saved her from the torture they must have agreed on. Alistair had been part of this _entire scheme._ Octavian cutting them to pieces. The castle reappearing to eat them whole - being split up, as they had been… the death of the priests.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted. She felt her shoulders slump, as her rage spun uselessly inside of her with no path forward. Not unless she wanted to bash up more helpless statues.

She felt a bony hand pat the top of her head. It was about as reassuring as the spectre was ever going to be - even if it was exceedingly creepy being 'consoled' by a glorified halloween decoration.

Veil lifted her head to look up at him with a raised eyebrow. He took his hand from her head and instead grasped the glaive above hers. Not intending to take it away from her - but for the symbolism of it. "I did not have this made for you, because you are some weeping child. Some fair maiden in need of guidance. You are my _daughter,"_ the skeleton insisted, and released his grasp of her weapon, floating up and away from her. "I am proud of what you have become. You will find your way forward with wrath, and fury."

In his own, stupid way - he was trying to be helpful. Trying to show support. "Thanks," she said flatly. "I think. You really gotta work on your delivery, by the way."

"Wrath, fury - and sarcasm. Mostly I believe it is that, I have imparted on you. Ah well, c'est la vie! Children are never _quite_ turn out the way you intend, eh?" Death shrugged, and with a cackle, disappeared in a swirl of black fabric, caught on the wind that always seemed to tug on him.

"Asshole," she said to no one in particular as he left.

Movement in the corner of her eye turned her head - and she saw someone else had joined them. But they didn't see her - a flash of black coat was all she saw as whoever it was, moved further into the graveyard of mausoleums and grand statuary.

Veil stood up from the rubble and followed the figure - trying to be inconspicuous and out of sight. The man, whoever it was - it was too dark to see - was making his way towards the center of the graveyard. She could track his movements by seeing his energy flow through the spirit world, overlaid on top of her normal vision like some kind of strange heat vision camera.

The man stopped in front of a gigantic mausoleum that stood in the center - flanked by statues of angels. It was free of the twisted imagery of the rest of the yard - from the mocking and perverted version of reverence that this place was meant to be filled with. This place… looked like it was built in honest service to the remains kept within.

The man kneeled at the door, his head lowered. When she crept forward - the view came into light. Torches burned in sconces on the sides of the mausoleum. It was decorated with stained glass windows of angels - of scenes of heaven and a kinder, gentler place. In the center, over the door - was etched a name. _Tepes._

The man kneeling at the base of the stairs that lead to the delicate, beautiful metal gate… was Adrian. This… was his mother's tomb.

Adrian's head was lowered, his platinum hair falling about his face in tendrils, obscuring his features. But the curl of his shoulders as he doubled over was that of pain - and she knew by the hand pressed to his face, the other digging into the dirt beneath him, that he was in agony.

Veil went to withdraw - to leave the man in peace, to let him suffer in private. But the moment she turned to go, she heard his voice break the silence.

"Stay."

Veil stopped her exit, and instead leaned her glaive up against the stone of another statue. Slowly, not wanting to make noise to interrupt his moment, she walked to his side. She knelt down next to him, and let her hand slide up his back.

She was silent. This was his moment, not hers.

"I would be a corpse, within those walls, if not for the actions of you… of my father."

Veil didn't respond, but felt a lump grow in her throat, listening to him speak.

"I have never wept for her," he murmured. "For I knew I would see her again. Now… I never will. For I am as he is now - never able to enter the gates of heaven, or hell..."

When he pulled his hand away from his face, she saw it was stained with tears of red - of blood. Her heart cracked in half. She pulled him towards her, and wrapped her arms around him. Trying to comfort him - trying to ask for forgiveness all at once. What comfort could she give him, though? In the face of all of this? In the face of all that had been done to them both?

He buried his head in her shoulder, and she merely held him as he cried.


	22. Chapter 22

After Adrian had gathered himself, they sat on the ground, across the plaza from his mother's tomb - leaning up against the base of another statue. They sat, side-by-side, in silence. Adrian had one knee bent, his elbow resting on it, and he was rubbing the tip of his finger along that of his thumb in slow circles. His crimson eyes, flecked in gold, were sightlessly staring ahead in thought through half-lowered lids.

They were sitting, arms barely touching, simply… thinking.

Veil felt… worn out. Spent. Angry, yes - but too overloaded to say anything, or muster any strength to rant and fume. She figured Adrian felt largely the same.

Vlad had masterminded this entire ordeal. The invasion of his armies into the countryside were merely a plot to bring her there - and to ensure that Adrian would once again try to stop him. Dracula had schemed with _Asmodeus -_ the two of them in league _together._ So Vlad could get his wish of a permanent end to his existence, and Asmodeus would get _her_ in exchange.

Adrian would take the throne. She would be Alistair's bride once more. Vlad would cease to exist after she tore his soul from his body, and shattered the connection - dragging his eternal essence into the living world and letting it scatter like so much dust on the wind. Just as she had in the fight with the armor golem in the forge. All would be 'right' in the world.

If only.

As if they didn't get any say in the fucking matter.

In fact, apparently, it was the two of them who went and mucked it all up. Alistair was meant to save her from the airtight coffin, not Lyon. Lyon had only been sent to save her after Adrian was _shot to death_ by Richard.

Richard, who was now being… held prisoner, likely being tortured, in the depths of the castle. Veil winced, as a giant pack of mixed emotions piled through her all at once. She was hideously angry at Richard for what he did - for being foolish enough to not see Alistair for what he was. But he was her friend. She couldn't let him rot… Couldn't let him die. If she could-

The thought hit her like a ton of bricks.

" _Fuck,_ " she swore suddenly, and the abrupt expletive made Adrian flinch in surprise. "Sorry. Dracula told me he had Richard and Alistair as prisoners. I just realized why they weren't dead yet."

"Ah," he said, and followed up with nothing else.

"He's going to use them in exchange for me killing him," she supplied. But Adrian was silent. "But… you... already knew that part, didn't you."

Adrian was silent, falling back into his old habits, merely staring off at his mother's tomb.

Veil nudged him with her shoulder. "Hey - Gorgeous - I'm talking."

"I know," he responded, and added nothing else.

Veil sighed and leaned her head back against the base of the statue they were sitting against. "Option one, I agree, I tear out your father's soul and send him into oblivion. You take the throne, and… I don't even know what. Turn this place into a health spa, I guess."

Adrian grunted in his throat, his eyes sliding shut. He didn't get the joke, but he didn't need to.

"Option two, I don't. Your dad murders Richard and, I guess, Alistair, whatever - and then… what… We kill him the old fashioned way, and go on a long vacation to New Zealand or some shit."

"I cannot leave here."

Veil felt the dread settle on her like a physical weight. The way he had said it - the finality of it, made her heart sink into her stomach. It wasn't an option - the way he said it, it was _fact._ Not he 'wouldn't' leave here… he 'couldn't.'

"If this place… if he falls, if this place crumbles…"

Adrian did not open his eyes. He made no motion as he confirmed her growing fear. "I will go with it, as with all the rest."

"Mother _fucker-"_ she swore again, and put her head in her hands. "Goddamn cock-sucking donkey whoring _son of a bitch!"_

At the end of her apoplectic yet incredibly cathartic swearing streak, she let out a long breath. In her pause, she heard an unexpected noise.

Adrian was laughing.

It was a low laugh, but one all the same - and when she turned to him, he had leaned his head back against the stone base of the statue, and was now looking up at the crimson moon overhead. His face was empty, but his eyes were filled with sorrow. "I could not have said it better myself," he said after a long pause.

It was her turn to laugh, at his dry sense of gallows humor. It was there, once you learned to recognize it for what it was.

Veil leaned against him, wanting just to feel his presence against her. They were silent again for what felt like minutes. She'd ask him what they were supposed to do - but she knew he didn't know, either. And it wasn't like Adrian to 'talk it out.'

She tilted her head against his shoulder. It was almost impossible to process everything he was going through. The loss of his humanity, and with it - a drowning roar of all the depravity and craving that went with the curse of the castle itself. The loss of any permanent peace - any hope of seeing his friends, or his mother, in heaven. Alongside that, his father's treachery - playing him as a pawn in his own selfish bid for freedom.

Now he was faced with a choice. Take the throne for himself, and the burden that it represented… or don't, and stay the white knight on the chessboard of his father's schemes for the rest of time.

Veil realized something - and she lifted her head to look at him. "Hey," she said, quietly. "You know that… whatever happens, I'm here, right?"

"Do not be a fool." Adrian pushed away from her and stood up, walking across the courtyard to keep his back to her. "You will do no such thing."

Veil quickly scrambled up to standing. "You're kidding me!"

"This was a… wonderful respite, in the coldness of my life. But nothing more. I will not allow you to trap yourself in this eternal _hell_ as I have become." Adrian's head was lowered, his hands closing into fists at his sides.

"So what am I supposed to do?! I'm not some little mortal shit who's going to wander off and _die,_ all moon-sick over a lost lover. I'm as immortal as you are - if not more so!" Veil stormed up to him and grabbed him by the upper arm, and whirled him around to face her. He looked at her, surprise on his pale features. "What, are we going to rondevu for a cup of coffee every hundred years?! Fuck you, if you think _I'm_ being the stupid one."

He brushed her hand off his arm. "You do not understand what you are speaking of. This is not some trifling matter-"

Her fist across his jaw shut him up - and sent his head snapping to the side. He staggered a step at the unexpected blow, his hand touching his face where she had impacted him. "Don't you fucking _dare-"_ she hissed at him. "'I don't know what I'm speaking of'-" she said, mocking his aloof tone, waving her hands around with her words. "You know that feeling you're having right now?! The one of 'I can't ever die, no matter what I do?' _Welcome to my miserable world, bucko!"_

She put her boot against his hip and kicked - sending him staggering backwards into a statue. He grasped the base with both hands, crimson eyes wide in shock as she continued her rant. She stalked up to him, and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, twisting it in her grasp. "So don't you _dare_ think you can send me away, like I'm some little starry-eyed village waif, all head over heels at her noble savior. Like somehow you're doing the _honorable_ thing by sending me away. No. You're in this mess because of _me._ This is _my_ fault. And the last thing I could ever handle - the last thing I will _ever accept._ Is walking away from here, knowing you're trapped in this bullshit on your own."

His face had become stoic once more - the shock of her attack having worn off halfway through her rant. He was watching her, the mournful angel once more.

"You said you loved me, last night. If you don't - if that was a lie? If you want me to leave you here - because you don't want me around - that I'll accept. But I won't accept you doing this out of some 'self-sacrificing sense of honor.' Because compared to this?!" she jabbed a finger into his chest accusatorially. "The world out there doesn't hold a whole lot of meaning anymore."

He was silent, and she let go of his shirt to take a step back. "So say it. Say you want me to leave. I gave you the chance last night, and you said you loved me. If you say it a second time - you need to stop this. Stop trying to push me away, as if it'll 'save me.' Because for the _absolute last goddamn time -_ _I am as fucked as you are!"_

Adrian was locked silent, his expression erilly matching that of the statue he was leaning against.

"Well?!" she shouted, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

The next words out of Adrian's mouth almost sent her to the floor. What they did do, was knock the wind right out of her - and robbing her clean of all her anger and all her self-righteous fury. Her eyes went wide, and she was dumbstruck. Her mouth might even have fallen open, she wasn't sure.

It took her several seconds before it even caught up to her - like a jet having ripped by her a thousand miles an hour, and the sonic boom only now having just caught up.

Four words, that if she had to pick from a list, would be the last four she'd have expected from him right now. Even lower on the list than 'I am a penguin.'

"Will you marry me?"

* * *

 **Super short 'chapter,' I know. I felt like this scene needed to stand on its own. I debated it for a while, but… It worked, and, it wanted to be written. Hope you enjoy! More coming soon.**


	23. Chapter 23

Adrian was not certain what brought those words to his lips.

The blood that ran rampant through his body - the curse at the core of the castle - had made him so… impulsive. He was many things in this world, but he had _never_ been rash. Never been quick to act on his urges.

But the words had been said - and now that he took a moment to consider them, they reflected what he felt in his heart. That he wished to have her by his side, and he at hers, now and forever. And they certainly had enough 'forever' ahead of them both.

She had made her thoughts on the matter known. Quite vehemently, in fact. She had no intention on leaving him - even when given every opportunity and reason to abandon the castle and the horror it promised. Even with the truth of his cage revealed - that he was now bound to this place, come any outcome - she emphatically refused to spare herself from what lie ahead.

This impetuous act - this hasty proposal - caught Veil just as off guard as it did he, himself who put it forth.

The look on her face was quite priceless - one eye narrowed and the other wide, in a look of utter bewilderment and shock. If he didn't know the reason behind her complete and utter failure of communication, he would have thought that perhaps he had grown another head.

It was minutes of silence before she managed to speak. Or, rather, make a few unintelligible noises. She sputtered uselessly for a moment, before laughing. She coughed to clear her throat, and he watched silently as she paced back and forth for a moment, before turning back to him.

She seemed still unwilling to believe the words that he had spoken. Honestly, he was just as surprised. But, there was no taking them back - and he found that he did not regret them. Still, she stammered out her first actual words. "Are you… are you serious?"

Adrian shut his eyes for a moment, debating his response. Humor was foreign to him - but not to her. Perhaps, that approach would be the most welcome - the most effective. He let his eyes reopen, let himself meet her dark eyes - still wide in surprise.

He kept his expression blank as he spoke. "Am I ever not?"

* * *

Veil kept waiting for the balloons to drop, and for someone to shout 'smile - you're on candid camera!'

"One second, you're telling me to leave here - abandon you, and everything that goes with it. The next, you're _proposing to me."_ She was now pacing back and forth in front of him. "Sorry if I'm having trouble catching up. Give me a minute."

Veil kept pacing as Adrian followed her request to 'give her a minute.' He stood there, in his all-too-familiar silence, leaning against the base of the statue where she had put him, when she had attacked him a minute prior.

She stopped her pacing, hitched on a thought, and began pacing again. Finally, a thought lodged in her head, and she realized she couldn't get past it. She stopped her frenetic pacing and walked back to face the dhampir. Correction, the _vampire._

"Are you sure about this?" she asked him.

"Yes."

"I'm not even human."

"Neither am I," he retorted.

"You know what I _mean."_ She threw her hands up again angrily.

"I am afraid I do not."

Was he baiting her now? Or was he serious that he didn't understand..? It was a fifty-fifty shot. Either he did, and wanted her to say it aloud and get to the root of their issue. Or, he didn't understand what she was saying, and he was that dense. She turned to him, and rolled up her sleeves to reveal the markings on her forearms - the ones he seemed so fascinated with. "I'm not real. I'm an imitation. Instant mashed potatoes. I'm not… besides, I'm damaged goods - and…" She trailed off uselessly, and sighed in frustration at not being able to find the right damn words.

Adrian straightened up, but did not approach her, keeping his distance. His expression had not changed once from its mournful stoicism. "If you wish to refuse, you may. I understand."

"That's not it!" Veil put her hands over her face. She finally grappled with what was at the heart of the problem. "I feel like you're going to regret this."

"Because of Alistair intervening? Because of the problems it may cause us?" As he spoke, she heard his voice growing closer as he walked up to her. His hands were gently at her wrists, and pulled her hands away from her face. He raised one to his lips, and placed a kiss on the back of her knuckles. It made her heart flutter almost painfully and lodge into her throat. He had such an instant effect on her. One touch, one look - and she was in the palm of his hand.

"No," she said, reluctantly. "Because of me," she finally admitted.

Confusion creased his brow for a moment before his face relaxed, as he finally seemed to finally understand. He released her hands to wrap his arms around her, and pull her into a gentle embrace. She let her hands curl against his chest. Adrian placed a single, cool kiss against her forehead. "So apart in demeanor and yet so near in nature, it is nearly tragic. Do not, for one moment, doubt your place in my heart. Ask me but a month ago, if I would find love in another? In one such as you? I would have thought it so absurd it would be beyond the realm of this reality or any other. But I do not deny that I have now found myself vested and irremovable in its depths."

That was quite simply the most she had ever heard Adrian say, end to end, at once. Probably the most he had ever spoken in one go, well… knowing him? Ever. His words made her want to cry - but she bit back the tears, and let her fingers twist into the white shirt he wore under his iconic black and gold-trimmed coat.

Veil nodded, having lost the ability to speak for a moment. Finally, she found her words - and she smiled up at him, if waveringly on the edge of tears, still. "Then yes... Of course I will."

They kissed - and it was in that moment she knew… this would be her place in this world - at his side, come hell or high water - one way or another - for a very… _very_ long time.

For that moment, it chased away all the dread that came with what they must do - with what they must decide.

* * *

They did not have long to cherish the moment before being interrupted by Lyon, who had summoned them back to the throne room. With a heavy sigh, they had traveled (by 'swarm of bats' which was still _incredibly_ weird to Veil) back to where they had been a few hours prior.

Vlad still sat upon his throne, fingers now tapping idly against the carved armrest. It was meticulously sculpted into the features of a dragon's head - grasping a ball in its mouth, and matching its kin on the other arm. It was a suitable masterpiece for the King of Darkness.

"Before you tell me of your decision," he spoke, his dark voice carrying through the grand chamber with little effort. "I wish to… present to you a gift."

Adrian tensed, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. Veil moved to grip her own weapon - but paused as Vlad laughed. It was, for once, a _normal_ laugh of actual humor, and not a maniacal one. "I swear to you it is, indeed, a true 'gift.' One made in good… _faith._ And one… to congratulate you both, perhaps." His voice softened with the last few words, and when he sat up and out of the darkness - his face was uncharacteristically… kind. He looked at Adrian with a warmth that could have been mistaken for fatherly love, it had been anyone else in this world.

Veil felt her cheeks flush - as if he wouldn't have known. Of _course_ Vlad knew about their sudden and abrupt 'engagement.' Of _course_ he had eyes and ears on them at all times.

Vlad stepped forward, the crimson lining of his cape flashing in the firelight as he walked down the stairs to approach them both. "It brings me great peace, to know that you may have found companionship before I am to greet the void."

"We have not yet spoken of my decision to take the throne," Adrian pointedly reminded his father. His hand left the hilt of his sword, at least believing that Vlad meant them no harm at the moment.

The vampire king made no response, and simply looked over to her, a smirk growing on his chiseled features. "How odd, that my future daughter-in-law will be the harbinger of my much-awaited end. Suitably fitting, also - that the 'offspring' of my eldest compatriot be she who wields the executioner's axe."

"You're making a lot of assumptions right now, bub-" Veil said with a laugh. "Look, I know we're not _friends_ \- far from it. You're an asshole, and you're a murderer. But I never said I was killing you, and Adrian-"

"I have decided to accept your abdication," Adrian interrupted her.

Veil's mouth stayed open, as she looked over at Adrian. She almost felt the record scratch as he yanked the reigns on her angry rant. They hadn't talked about it - they hadn't even _broached_ the subject. And Adrian was… taking… the throne…? "What…?" she couldn't help but ask.

Adrian's face was stoic - and he looked never more like a cemetery angel than he did now. He didn't look at her when he spoke, but instead cast his gaze on the terrible and grotesque throne on the dias. One that apparently would soon be his. "To refuse would be tacit acceptance that his method is the only way to shoulder this responsibility. To refuse would be from fear - and I am no coward."

Vlad's face smoothed into one of… relief. Of a great burden being lifted from him. "I am glad to hear you speak such, my son."

"You and I have been trapped by our convictions. If I wish to see this cycle broken - if I wish to see the corruption of the castle curtailed… then it will be up to I to see it done - or fall victim to its plague as you have."

"Hmh," Dracula laughed once in his throat, and reached out to put his hand on Adrian's shoulder. The younger vampire did not recoil. "I pray you keep your strength. I pray you keep true to each other in the trying times ahead." He took a step back from them both. "But, as I said - a gift, perhaps more for my… future daughter, than you, my son." He seemed to find the use of 'son' and 'daughter' terribly entertaining at the moment. He gestured his hand, and a swirling gateway in space opened before them.

Both Veil and Adrian eyed Vlad warily, not trusting an open hole into nothingness. Dracula sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "I am not about to drop you both into an abyss. How much of an idiot do you think me?"

"Fine," Veil grumbled and walked forward. "Whatever. Not like it'll keep me dead anyway."

"Nor I," Adrian reluctantly added from behind her, as she stepped through the swirling hole.

Veil found herself deposited on the other side, standing in a… dungeon. An honest-to-goodness, torture-racks-and-iron bars, straight out of some fantasy movie - _dungeon._ The stones of the wall were a dark, putrid shade of blacks, greys and blues. There was the smell of dampness - like an old, musty basement, mixed with the rancid odor of rotting flesh. Oh, and feces. That was probably also feces, she decided.

She stopped to put the back of her hand to her nose, and wince at the smell. The sounds of people - _creatures -_ whoever, wailing in the darkness, was enough to turn her stomach, let alone accompanied by the scent.

Vlad passed by her, unphased by what was around him, as he walked down the stone corridor between the rotted and decaying racks of torture implements and other devices of suffering. Jail cells lined the walls - and she could bare make out the matted, stray piles of straw that was used for 'bedding.' The hunched figures cowering back away from the bars as they shrank in fear from the sight of Dracula.

Veil followed behind, glancing over her shoulder at Adrian. The younger vampire was walking, resolute, his face drawn into a look of impassable stone. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking - or feeling.

 _Wait -_ the thought hit her suddenly. If he was going to be King of the castle, and they were now 'engaged' then _she-_

Veil burst out with a sudden laugh, that both made the stoic younger vampire, and the elder one to turn his head to look at her. "Sorry, sorry-" she said with a wave of her hands, trying to downplay her outburst. "Couldn't help it, had a random thought. It happens."

Lordy, that was a good one though. Her? _Queen?!_ Bullshit. Utter, complete bullshit. How the ever-loving-fuck was _that_ going to play out?! She could barely figure out how she was going to handle 'living forever' let alone, 'living forever as the queen of a castle of evil, face-eating monsters.'

Hell, how was Adrian planning on reconciling that?! He had dedicated his life to stopping Vlad. At least recently. What did this place look like, when Adrian was 'younger?' "Can I ask a question?"

"I doubt saying 'no' will stop you," Vlad correctly observed.

"What was this place like… when Lisa was alive?" Veil asked honestly. "I doubt she was terribly fond of… um… All this." Veil gestured at the ceills, and the cowering figures within.

Vlad was silent for a long moment before responding. When he did, to his credit, the words had no emotion to them - neither resentment nor fondness. It was probably a very careful choice on his part. "She understood that wolves must eat. But there are kinder and crueler ways to skin a rabbit."

"Creatures of all walks of life were welcome here," Adrian added from behind her. " _Human-_ " Adrian said the word with particular emphasis, pointed squarely at his father "-and otherwise," His voice sounded far more… forlorn than Vlad's. "It was a shelter for those unwelcome in the world to exist as they must."

Both of the men fell silent, and Veil decided to _not_ continue poking that touchy subject. But she could see it in her head - a place that was a shelter for creatures like her. For vampires, for demons, angels, werewolves… for even humans who found themselves cast out of society. It was a charming, if haphazard image in her mind.

It might almost work.

"Em… Dracula?" she spoke quietly. Not really sure how to address him.

He looked back at her with a glint of amusement. He seemed so quick to show his emotions - whatever they may be. It was interesting to see how that differed from Adrian. "You may call me Vlad," he responded.

"Are you sure… about… my destroying your soul. I mean, if you abdicate the throne to Adrian, can't you just- I mean, I'm sure it doesn't work this way. I'm sure there's something I'm missing. But can't you just convince the castle you want a vacation?" Veil paused as she felt the weight of what he was asking her to do settle on her. "I don't need to tell you how permanent _oblivion_ is. There is no coming back from that."

"I am fully aware," Vlad looked ahead of him as they trekked deeper into the dungeons. "And it is for that embrace of nothingness that I deserve. It will be the only future that will accept my fetid soul."

"'Heaven doesn't want me, and hell's afraid I'll take over,'" Veil quoted a keychain she had bought from Spencers in the 90's.

"Quite."

Veil sighed, and shut her eyes. "Alright. I don't like it. But fine."

"Why are you adverse to this solution?" Vlad asked her, honest curiosity in his voice. "You wish to end my reign of terror, as does my son. I have murdered your colleagues. I have tortured you, and those you care about. So why worry over the eternal fate of my soul?"

"Because…" she paused. "I guess I'm hoping for a happy ending to all of this. I'm naive."

"Stay in such a state for as long as you can hold it to your heart," Vlad advised her. "And I… thank you for your compassion. But understand that the sweet caress of the void is, for me, as benign an outcome that I can wish for."

Veil let the discussion end with a heavy sigh. She turned her head to look back at Adrian - who was the silent knight walking behind her, his face the same mask of indifference. His crimson eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, his expression softened - but it was clear that he had much on his mind, and was deep in thought.

Vlad pushed open a large wooden door, and Veil's attention snapped back to the matter at hand. The vampire king - who towered over her, easily by a foot and some change - stepped aside to let her and Adrian view the center of the room.

Veil felt two emotions, all at once. Anger, and heartbreak. But surprisingly - neither of those were pointed at her soon-to-be 'father in law.' They were pointed at the man she saw, chained to the center of the room - bloodied, beaten, and barely able to lift his head with the weight of the heavy iron stockade that kept his arms shackled to his neck by a thick, black bar of solid metal. The rough wrought iron bars around his neck looked immensely heavy - and if he had even been able to stand under the weight, the chains that kept them lashed to the center of the room would keep that impossible.

Richard.

His dark brown hair was matted and damp. His face was stained with dirt and flaking, dried blood. He saw her, and his face flashed with panic, with hope - with relief and pain. But he was tired, and broken. Blood streaked from his hairline down his cheek and his neck - and it looked as though the fingers on one of his hands had been broken - very likely one by one. More torture…

Her heart twisted into knots, and threatened to split in two.

Richard had shot Adrian. He had killed him in a moment of pure fear - and put them all in this predicament. He single-handedly changed the course of history as they knew it.

If Richard hadn't killed Adrian… he wouldn't be a full-fledged vampire now - cursed with the blood of the castle. Cursed to spend the rest of his eternity like this - or choose oblivion over facing another day, like Vlad.

But he was her best friend. Her ward. The one she'd sworn to protect, so many years ago. He had been afraid for his life - something she couldn't ever really truly understand. He had been afraid he'd never see his family again - something she'd never had in the first place. And he had been, undoubtedly, pointed in that direction by Alistair.

That was one topic she pushed from her head - Asmodeus. She'd deal with _that_ can of worms later. She sunk down to her knees in front of him, and reached up to put her hand on his face. His skin was clammy - and he looked feverish, as he struggled to focus on her.

"V… Veil?" he stammered, and coughed through chapped lips. He couldn't have been trapped here that long… but honestly, she had no idea what kind of tricks the castle, and its 'torturers' had up their sleeve. She had met Octavian, and that had been plenty first hand experience for her. There was a damn good chance that time moved faster in the dungeons.

"Yeah," she responded quietly, and she sighed heavily.

"I… I…"

"Shush," she said to him, and ran a hand back over his damp hair. She wiped the blood from his eyes as best she could. Who was she kidding? She couldn't be mad at him… not really. This was Richard. _Her_ Richie. She turned her head to Vlad. "He goes free. Home. Alive. Human. No catch. No loopholes. No catch 22's."

Dracula bowed his once head in agreement. "Such is my gift to you, Veil."

Richard burst into tears - sobbing in both relief and pain. He doubled over, the heavy stockade around his neck dragging him towards the ground. Veil wrapped her arms around him as best she could. "Oh god, thank you… I'm so sorry," Richard sobbed out. "I shouldn't have… I was so scared… I'm… I can't even… ask forgiveness, please…"

"You are weak," Adrian said, and Veil turned to look at him with a shocked expression. She had never heard him speak like that before - so cold and harsh. The look on his face matched. "To fall prey to the overt games of an archdemon. But it is not your fault you are so. You were ill prepared to stand on such a battlefield of body or mind. This is not a place for you."

Veil couldn't find fault in his words. They were fact, after all. For however harsh they were, it was truth. Adrian continued to speak, stepping towards the two of them, where they knelt on the floor. "And for that, there is nothing to forgive." He held out his hand, and with a gesture - the iron stockade around Richard's neck fell in two, and clattered to the floor. Richard would have collapsed if Veil hadn't caught him. "But you will leave here, never to return."

That was like threatening someone with a million dollars - it wasn't exactly a threat to the history professor. Until she realized that the words were more for _her,_ than Richard. Adrian couldn't leave this place - not really, not anymore. And therefore… neither could she. This was her home now. And Richard had no place in it.

Veil hugged Richard - sweat and blood be damned, and leaned her head down to him. "This is goodbye," she said quietly to her friend.

"What?!" Richard burst out, finding the strength to lift his head to look at her - his brown eyes frantic as he searched her face. "N-no, it… it can't be."

Veil smiled weakly. "My place is here, with him. You have a wife and kids. You have… a normal life to go back to. I'm not human. This is the only place in the world I can be somebody _real._ We've… we've both made our choices." Veil wrapped her arms around her friend, and hugged him again tightly - knowing it would be the last time she did so. This time, when tears threatened to fall, she let them - and felt him sob into her shoulder as he weakly clinged to her with one hand - the other too mauled to do anything with. As much pain as Richard was in - she knew this was nothing compared to what Vlad could - and what he likely _wanted_ \- to do to the mortal for killing his son. For starting this chain reaction.

Veil held him for a long time, before slowly pushing away from him. He clutched her coat with his hand, and didn't let her go. "But… I.. I don't know what to do, without you - you've always been there… always. N... no matter what."

In her mind's eye, her memory flashed back to a time, not so long ago - when he was that little boy she found in a cage in the basement of some idiot pack of cultists. He had been beaten and bloody just the same - and she had found him, on his knees, crying. He had aged - some thirty or more years since then, but the eyes were the same. The brown, pleading, hopeless expression. Everything had been taken away from him then - but this time… he had so much more to live for, than that little scared boy.

Veil hugged him one more time, and leaned her head down to his ear to whisper, and said the same words to him that she had said to him when he was that little boy. "All I want to do, half the time, is just cry. But I can't - I have to keep going. I've just learned how to fake it. You can too. So fake it, Richie. Be strong because you have to be. Don't give yourself a choice."

This time, unlike the day so long ago she had met him as the frightened, weeping child, something was very different. "This time, your family isn't dead. This time, you have a family to go home to."

Richard's hand that had grabbed her coat went slack and dropped into his lap. He let out a wavering breath. It took him a moment to stop his sobbing, but when he did, he straightened his shoulders, and used his good hand to blearily wipe his tears away.

When he lifted his head - his shoulders were heaving, but there was something in his eyes she had never seen before - he looked… resolute. She smiled at him, and he looked at her - face worn and exhausted… and couldn't manage a smile back. He merely nodded, and let his eyes cast back down at the floor. That was as close to a goodbye as he was going to manage.

Veil stood up, and with one last touch to his shoulder, she turned to leave. She wiped her own tears away with her sleeve, and felt like she was turning her back on an era of her life. She was.

Vlad looked to her as she did, before speaking. "Arrangements have been made. He will return to his family within the hour."

"... Thanks," Veil responded - not sure if she really should be _thanking_ him for any of this. But he didn't need to do this. He could have killed Richard, like he had threatened to. He could have made them figure out how to get him home - or broken all his bones. Or… taken his eyes, or something. So, in so much as it was a case of 'you lost both your arms, but hey, at least it isn't brain cancer' - she was thankful.

Sensing the subtext to her gratuity, he merely smirked and gestured - opening up another swirling gate in front of them.

Veil hesitated - knowing the moment she stepped through that gate, she'd never see Richard again. Never. Not now, not in the afterlife she'd never have… She squeezed her eyes shut, and felt tears run down her cheeks again, and she faltered.

If she turned to look at him, she might never let go of him again. Faced with the harsh reality of her choice - of the castle and Adrian, or the living world with Richard - she wavered.

A hand fell on her shoulder, and slid to rest on the back of her neck, under her sapphire hair. She knew by the weight and the feel of it that it was Adrian. He placed a kiss on her temple. He understood what she was feeling, she knew. He had first-hand experience of what it was like to turn your back on your mortal friends to face the reality of your own world.

Veil swallowed thickly in her throat, and opening her eyes, wiped at her tears again with her hands. She took in a deep breath, and let it out with a wavering sigh. Steeling herself for what it meant to step through the swirling gateway in front of her.

Her dark eyes met Adrian's crimson ones - and he was watching her with a look of deep concern and pity - as if to ask her if she was alright. She nodded once, weakly - and took his hand in hers. His thin, pale lips twitched into a faint smile, as she lead the two of them through the gate.

Where she arrived next - and what she saw before her, made her stumble backwards. This was not a dungeon - but it _was_ a prison cell. A cell designed to hold something of massive power - and immense danger.

A circular platform dominated the room, raised up on a series of larger circular platforms to act as a set of stairs. The stone floor of the platform was etched deep with symbols and writing - calling out every spell she knew to keep a creature contained - and several spells she _didn't_ know.

Chains, as thick around as her arm - ran from giant rings in the walls and stretched to a figure in the center. Wrapped around, or more grotesquely - hooked _into_ the flesh of the creature it was meant to imprison. The metal was pure black, and glistened in the torches that lined the walls, like they were made of obsidian. But were clearly made of something _far_ stronger.

She knew the figure that the chains restrained.

Asmodeus.

Not Alistair. The archangel had shed his human form for his true one - and he was kneeling in the center of the circle. Not because he had collapsed there, as Richard had in his cell - but for lack of anything better to do. The chains were hooked into his chest, his back, his arms - and wrapped around his wings and kept them bent at a horrid angle behind his back.

The crimson scarf that he kept wrapped around his lower face had been taken from him - and only his long, black hair obscured his face from view. At her appearance, he lifted his head - just barely - just enough to look at her.

No - no she wasn't doing this. Not now, not after just saying goodbye to Richard. Veil backed up, straight into Adrian's chest, and he put his hands on her shoulders, as if to reassure her. Or, to remind her this had to be done. Either way, she wasn't going anywhere.

Asmodeus rose to stand, the chains clattering around him as he stood to his full height. He raised his wings as far as he could against the chains that bound him - spreading them out to his sides. Their oil-slicked, opalescent sheen caught the light and he was in that moment, every bit the glorious fallen archangel. Made somehow even more horrifying and awe-inspiring by the chains that bound him.

"I would see him returned to hell before I depart this place," Vlad snarled from behind them. "I would see my revenge for his _traitorous_ actions completed."

Veil had tried to block from her mind the fact that Dracula and Asmodeus had worked _together_ on this whole thing. It was just another reason why both of them 'had to go' - another reason Adrian should take the throne. Another reason why Dracula was _right._ She hated proving him right.

"Unfortunately," Vlad continued, reluctantly. "I am unable to kill him. … I have tried."

Asmodeus laughed once in response to Dracula's comment, but otherwise remained silent - his blue-green gaze fixed only on Veil.

She realized with a sinking feeling, nothing else in the room held interest to him. And with Dracula admitting he was unable to kill the archangel, she knew why. "You need me to do it…"

"You have done it once before," Dracula pointed out. "Merely do it once again." He made it sound like it was such a minor, nonchalant inconvenience to him.

Veil flinched and turned to glare at him. "That's not how _murder_ works, you asshole. It isn't about making a sandwich or doing the dishes - it isn't just another hum-drum chore."

Vlad's response was dark - and his voice and expression matched it. "In this world, it is."

She felt like she was going to be sick - and her expression clearly echoed it. Adrian stepped between her and his father, blocking her line of sight to the offending vampire king. He put a hand on her cheek and lifted her face to look at him. When he spoke, his voice was full of regret and sorrow. "If I could take this burden from you…" he trailed off.

"I know, I know," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. One of her hands had found itself on his chest, gently toying with one of the buttons of his coat.

There was really no way around this. Asmodeus had to be dealt with. He'd played them all - her included. Letting her believe that maybe, just maybe, he was benign. But his 'master plan' had been to trick her into his care once more. Let Vlad torture her, torment her, break her down - and let Alistair pick up the pieces. Let the archangel save her from the airless crypt. From the suffering _he_ had a hand in designing. He knew what would hurt her - he knew what would break her. And how much longer would he have left her there? How much longer would it have taken, before she would have thrown herself into his arms?

How much longer would she have been there… before she had come to love him again…?

Asmodeus had planned it all, in league with Dracula. Using the imminent threat of Vlad's armies to convince her to bring him back from the spirit plane, where she had trapped him so many years ago. The castle, coming to get them - splitting them up and leaving them vulnerable. It had all been according to plan. _His_ plan.

That's what he was… that's what he'd always be. The mastermind.

The puppetmaster.

To think that she almost had felt bad for what she had done, stranding him in the spirit world, almost a century prior. Enough was enough. She steeled herself, and when she looked back up at Adrian, he smiled faintly at the resolve on her face. She had just told Richard to 'man up cowboy.' Now it was her turn. "It has to be done. I just… don't have to _like_ it."

"I would strongly prefer you did not," Adrian placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

With a sigh, she turned from him, and looked up at the fallen archangel. Her former lover. Her former, if-incredibly-brief, _husband._ Her creator. Asmodeus stood, motionless - wings still spread out around him, waiting. The tragic creature, alluring and _wrong._

The last thing in the world she wanted to do was walk up to him. The last thing in the world she wanted to do, was face him down. And face the fact that she was going to drag him - body and soul - into the spirit world and abandon him there… for a second time.

But it had to be done.

Veil bolstered herself on her anger. Her indignity at what he'd done. Her righteousness. She took the glaive off of her back, and handed it to Adrian. She wouldn't need it for this. Forcing her feet forward, she walked up the steps and into the circle that kept the archdemon trapped.

It was only at her approach that he moved - lowering the spread of his terrible and yet beautiful clawed wings, that made them almost like a second set of arms for him. The claws flexed and closed into fists - and it was that simple movement that showed her that still, somehow, she made him feel... Vulnerable.

He wasn't the only one.

When she drew close to him - he moved towards her in response. As if to try and wrap her in his wings, or lift a hand to touch her - but the chains kept him back. They drew taught against his movement, and he hissed in pain as the hooks in his flesh dug deeper. It was similar to what Octavian had done to Adrian… and she knew Vlad had done that very much on purpose.

Veil winced at his pain - unable to help herself but feel, despite everything, sympathy for him.

Asmodeus stilled, and accepted the fact he could not move. They stood in silence for a long moment, watching each other - before he finally spoke. His lips - which seemed chapped from some long walk in a desert, were no less beautiful by it. "Did you ever love me…?"

Veil felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Of course, he'd jump straight to that. He knew she was going to 'kill' him. He knew there was no point trying to 'talk her out of it.' So he went for the sucker-punch instead.

This would be the last time they talked, very likely… or at least, for a very, _very_ long time. As long as 'forever' normally was for most people. She could spare honesty for him. "Of course I did. I loved you more than anything in this world… you _were_ my world. That was the problem."

"Everything I have done… I did for love of you. I am a jealous thing… I do not like to _share,"_ he responded, his voice quiet. It was, in some stupid way, his half-ass explanation for his involvement in murdering Adrian. For forcing Vlad to turn his son into a full vampire - and not only that, a vampire sired by the castle itself. Cursing him to live as the thing he despised the most in this world.

"You realize that doesn't make it 'okay,' right?" Veil said through an incredulous laugh.

"Of course not." Asmodeus tilted his head slightly to one side, his a single tendril of his black hair falling in front of one of his eyes. "But I cannot apologize for my very nature. No more than you would ask a _wolf_ to apologize for eating a rabbit." Veil blinked - it was the same metaphor Vlad had used on her a moment prior. Had he been listening? It hit her suddenly what the two of them had been referencing. Adrian's chosen form was that of a wolf… they were making snide shots at the former dhampir.

Asmodeus kept speaking, giving her a moment to consider his words. "Answer me something, in all honesty - and I will accept my punishment at your hands."

Veil shut her eyes for a moment and ran both her hands through her blue hair - combing it back away from her face. "Fine," she said with a sigh. "Sure. I guess I can give you that much."

His voice was quiet, and the tone was once more vulnerable - as if the answer exposed the core of him to her. In a large way, she supposed it did. "Does any part of you _still_ love me?"

Veil considered the question for a long time - searching her own heart for the answer. After a long moment, she was forced to offer him a nod. "Part of me always will. I don't think once you've loved a person, that ever really goes away."

The creases at the corner of his eyes relaxed in some great release of pain. Something about this form of his - his true form - always struck her as more beautiful than his human one. Partially, because of the slight flaws that showed the wear that his fall from heaven had placed on him. The stray grey hairs, the creases at the corner of his eyes - the constant dryness of his lips. "Thank you. You did not need to tell me the truth."

He held his arms to his sides, palms forwards - accepting his fate at her hands. Veil walked towards him - felt his presence dwarf hers. His height, his terrible wings - his power. It made her shudder reflexively - he was, after all - an archdemon. "I'm sorry for how this all played out," she said to him quietly - that wasn't for Adrian or Vlad to hear.

"As am I…"

Veil placed a hand on his chest, and pulled them both into the spirit world. Dragging someone like him through, felt like dragging a truck down a hallway. Christ, it was a strain - but finally, she managed to pull them both through the barrier. The chains that had held his body in the circle clattered to the ground - muted and muffled like it was all behind glass.

Here in the spirit world, power arced around him like solar flares - an array of colors and auras that moved as he did. Just like he had before - when she had abandoned him here the _first_ time.

Veil went to step back away from him - and leave him trapped. His hand snapped around her wrist, keeping her hand against his chest. His dry lips curled in a cruel smile as her eyes went wide in horror as she realized…

She couldn't pull free.

She couldn't phase back into the living world. The chill that she felt pervading her body wasn't just the empty coldness of the spirit world - it was also the terror that ran through her.

"I wasn't expecting your attack the first time, my love," Asmodeus said as he tilted his head back just slightly. "I was not prepared the day you betrayed me. The day of our wedding."

"Let me go," she growled at him. Well, she tried to growl - it was hard to sound convincing through the fear. He had her by the wrist, and she couldn't escape - here, in the spirit world. Where she had only half of her powers. Veil struggled violently - began kicking and punching at him. She hit him with every ounce of strength she had - but she might as well have been fighting a concrete wall.

"You _belong to me,"_ he hissed angrily, and stepped towards her - lifting the wrist in his hand up over her head, narrowing the distance between them as she struggled. One of his wings snapped around her, its claws grasping at the back of her head and neck - keeping her from retreating any further.

One of the claws dug dangerously into the tender flesh just below her ear. Her eyes went wide in horror as she realized… he could kill her here. He could kill her body, in this empty lifeless place. What the _hell_ would happen to her then? That was a question she had never wanted to answer. Her struggles ceased instantly as she froze - afraid that any movement on her part would send the claw into her neck.

"Good girl… you understand." He lifted his free hand to run it through her hair - gently stroking a few loose tendrils behind her ear. "You were always so bright… always such a quick study." He tilted his head to the side as he watched her, like one would watch a specimen under glass. He ran his sharp-nailed finger along the line of her jaw, and she shuddered. Goosebumps appeared on her neck - part from the cold, and part from his touch. He chuckled at her response.

"Tell me," he pondered aloud. "Did you honestly believe that I would allow this to happen? That I would allow you to run off with that insignificant _weasel_ while you left me here to rot?! I _made you…_ It is my right to determine what your future holds."

"Go to hell," she ground out through clenched teeth. "I'm not your fucking _puppet._ "

Asmodeus laughed - and it was a deep, yet sharp-edged laughter that reminded her a little too much of some operatic stage villain. "Oh, but my darling, wonderful little spitfire... Don't you see? That is precisely what you are… Etched upon your skin are the strings. I have just merely yet to _pull them."_

He placed the palm of his hand over her heart on her chest, and she hitched in a cry as she felt something searing _through_ her skin - like something was burning onto her flesh underneath his touch. "Stop! Stop-" she gagged in pain and suddenly found herself unable to speak. Unable to move.

He let go of the wrist over her head, and she - unbidden by her own mind - lowered it to her side. The claw that grasped the back of her neck released her, and his swings spread out at his side like some great bird of prey. His green-blue eyes flashed in cruelty - in sadistic joy. "I let you walk your own path with your own _free will_ for as long as it suited me. That time is now done. Perhaps, some day… when you've come to your senses, I will set you free…"

Veil couldn't struggle. Couldn't fight. Couldn't _move or speak._ She stood there, locked solid - eyes wide in horror as Asmodeus pulled his hand from her chest. It wandered idly to crook a finger under her chin, tilting it up to look at him as he zeroed the distance between them.

When his lips met hers, her mind emptied.

* * *

It had been some time since Veil and the archdemon had vanished. Adrian felt the sense of danger creep on him. He went tense, and leaned Veil's glaive against the wall, to grasp the hilt of his own sword.

It was a learned trait.

Vlad himself had summoned his sword to his hand. "Something is wrong."

Movement to his side caught his attention, and Adrian whirled his head. But he was too slow. Even with all the speed of his newfound powers… he did not compare to what struck him.

It was the searing pain at his shoulder, followed by that in his chest - that was the first hint that something had gone awry. Everything else happened too quickly for him to even track.

The first thought that registered in his mind past the searing, agonizing pain… was a laughable one. Quite simply, all that occurred to him as he met the dark eyes of his attacker was… ' _She has been pulling her punches with me.'_

Veil stood before him - glaive in her hands. His right arm was… gone. Simply sliced free at the stump. Where it had fallen and hit the ground - it had burned away in a roar of fire to ash. The castle's blood would be quick to heal him, he knew.

More problematic was the blade of the glaive that was embedded into his chest, and deep into the wall behind him. A stinging at his jaw brought back what had happened. In one instant she had appeared - slicing her glaive upwards and taking his arm off in one clean movement. As she twirled it around her, the back end of her weapon had met his jaw, sending him reeling backwards - the completion of the rotation of the weapon had been what sent the blade sinking into his chest - and pinned him to the stone with it lodged deep in his sternum.

Adrian coughed blood, his eyes wide as he managed to force a single word out through his tortured lungs. "Veil…?"

The woman before him blinked, and looked behind her - as if confused. She looked back to him and raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

 _No._

Horror settled on him like a blanket. Something about her had changed - not just mentally… but there was an _eighth_ circle that had appeared on her. This one, on her chest - centered over her ribcage, and the size of a man's palm. It was then, that all doubt was removed.

Asmodeus had her.

"Selina, my dear?" the archdemon's voice called, snapping them both out of their brief moment.

Veil turned to look with a smile. "Yes, Master?" The words left her lips with such a casual affection - her eyes lit up in adoration. But the scene before them both brought Adrian nothing but dread. Nothing but the loss of all hope.

Vlad was on his knees before the archangel - the vampire's sword uselessly on the ground, having been knocked from his hand. Dracula had been no match for the King in Hell's ambush. He was bleeding profusely from a wound in his side - and the demon had the claws of one of his wings clenched tight around his throat - vulture-like talons dug through the flesh of Dracula's throat.

"Come give this cretin the oblivion he lusts for so keenly."

"Sure thing," she said with another smile. She vanished into the spirit world.

" _No!"_ Adrian hollered. "Veil, _no!"_

"She is not your _Veil_ any longer," Asmodeus said with a single laugh. "To be truthful - she never was. Consider your time together a gift."

" _Veil!"_ Adrian screamed, and tried to yank the glaive out of his chest with his one hand. But it was hopeless - it was driven too deep. While the castle's blood had stopped his missing arm from bleeding - it was not yet healing him. He had lost too much blood.

Vlad's crimson eyes met his. He was in pain, but he had been through much worse. Even knowing his last moments on this earth were upon him - he looked ever the dignified king. His father. "My son, do not grieve. Do not lose yourself to the despair as I did in my weakness. Be stronger than-" His voice broke off suddenly.

Veil reappeared - dragging Dracula's soul from his body with her. She took two paces backwards, gripping the vampire king's eternal essence by the throat with one hand. He was helpless and had no choice but to stagger forward and fall to his knees before her.

A crimson energy connected Vlad's soul to his body - flowing like tendrils of arcing power.

Veil was whistling some idle tune as she took her other hand and began to wrap the tendrils around her hand, looping it around her palm again and again.

Asmodeus released Dracula's body - who remained locked on his knees, silent and unable to move or fight back, with his soul pulled from him.

" _Please,"_ Adrian begged. To lose his father like this - to lose _her_ like this… "Don't…"

Veil ignored him, and she finished wrapping the threads that kept Vlad's soul attached to his body. She lifted her hand, and as he had seen her do with the armor golem in the forges, she squeezed - shattering the threads like they were suddenly made of glass.

Unlike the golem, Vlad's soul did not scream. He did not struggle. He did not fight. He shut his eyes - and a look of great peace came over him. It was an expression he had never known his father to wear, in all his years. It was the last he would ever see of him, as his soul faded to dust and scattered on an invisible wind.

" _No!"_ Adrian screamed, his fangs bared. Tears flowed down his cheeks, unchecked. Vlad's body slumped lifelessly to the ground, and Adrian roared in agony. He slumped his head forward, his eyes shut in pain and loss.

The glaive embedded in his chest shifted as a hand grasped it. A voice near him snapped him out of his thoughts. "Should I kill him, Master?"

Adrian lifted his face to look at the woman he loved - to look at she, who looked back at him with no recognition in her dark eyes.

"No. As delicious as that would be to watch." Asmodeus approached them, and he curled his wings against his back - shimmered, and was once more Alistair. He tugged on his coat and straightened his well-tailored suit. "I have no desire to rule this place. Nor will I see it go to some nihilist." Alistair walked up to him, and reached out to touch Adrian's face. He hissed angrily in response, which only brought a sarcastic sneer from the fallen archangel.

Veil yanked the glaive from his chest, and he let out a pained noise as he fell to his knees - his only hand clutching the hole in his chest.

Adrian looked up at her, as she took a step back to stand at Alistair's side. He was too wounded to fight - both mentally and physically. He was broken by her unwitting betrayal and the death of his father.

Alistair wound an arm around Veil's waist - and she tucked herself in against him and rested her head against his chest. He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her head, and she shut her eyes in pleasure at the gesture. "Do you have anything to say to him, before we go?"

"Why? Do I know him?" she asked, and reopened her eyes to look at Adrian where he knelt - defeated and broken.

"No. I perhaps you do not," Alistair said with no small amount of joy. "He thought to take you from me."

Veil snorted incredulously and laughed. "Dumbshit."

Alistair gestured with his hand, and a swirling black gate opened up behind him. "Go on. I will be after you in just a moment."

As Veil turned to leave, Alistair caught her up in his arms, and kissed her. It was all for show - for Adrian's benefit. But Veil - no, Selina - let out a small hum in her throat and kissed him back enthusiastically. When he let her go - she smiled up at him, and without even a glance at Adrian - she stepped through the swirling black gate and was gone.

"Nothing to say? You are the quiet one, I suppose," Alistair shrugged idly. The fallen archangel looked back at him, and smiled - almost sadly. "What good is all the power in the world, if you sit upon the dias alone?" His gaze went to Vlad's lifeless body upon the floor. "It drove him mad. I wonder what it will do to you." He turned to walk into the swirling gate, before he paused.

The archdemon made a 'hm' noise in his throat, as he remembered something. "Ah. I almost forgot." He glanced back at him over his shoulder, and smirked. "The king is dead. Long live the king."

With that, and a laugh steeped in cruelty - the archdemon was gone.

And Adrian was alone.

* * *

 **So! This story is winding towards the close. (I've had a lot of pretty big moments the past few chapters, and everyone's been kinda quiet!)**

 **I have a few more stories in mind, and I'd love some input on which one I do first. I think I'll do another Vlad/OC. I've been working up the nerve to do one that's pretty dark... Here're some options for the OC characters: A witch, a shapeshifter, or a tinker who builds sentient robots. Thoughts?**


	24. Chapter 24

Time.

They say that 'time' is the healer of all things.

Now that he had experienced such a thing, he sought to argue the opposite. Time is the destroyer of all things. A statue worn down by the blowing sands of time is not healed. An island washed away by the oceans of the earth is not healed. They are merely _gone._ But so is its plight, perhaps. And with the whole of it, goes its torment.

Time only heals in so much that it wears away and removes. But it certainly does not _mend._

Adrian knelt before the altar of the cathedral - and felt the pain in his shoulder where his arm had been cleaved free by his only love - as if it had happened yesterday. He touched his hand to his chest, as if he would find the bloody stump. A phantom pain, nothing more - as it had long since healed, and only a slight scar remained.

It had been _thirty_ years since that day. It would feel like an eternity to a mortal human - and even he, in his comparatively young age, felt it crawl past. But for an ancient, it was merely a blip in time. A firefly in the night sky. It had been thirty years since Asmodeus had left him beaten and bloodied - and stolen from him the woman he loved.

Thirty years, spent in this castle - and tending to his domain. His 'new' burden. 'New,' perhaps, being a relative phrase.

Every day, he began his day here… kneeling at the altar, praying to God. He believed not in the human savior - for that one had been sent for his own kind, and not Adrian's. And yet, he knelt, praying to God to forgive him, praying to God for guidance. Praying to God for strength. Praying to God for her safety. To which God he paid the words, he cared little. To whom he spoke, he did not pay any attention. To any and all that would hear his prayers cast into the darkness, he would be grateful.

Adrian prayed for the same reason as all mortals did - for the simple comfort of taking action where no other action could be done. For the solace it provided, when one could pretend that they were not helpless in the face of that which you could not control.

He remembered the day this all began, as if it were nothing but a breath of air into the past. He had remained kneeling there upon the ground after Asmodeus left him alive, and taken Veil with him. Eyes cast to the floor - at the puddle of blood that grew around his knees. The castle had already begun to heal him - he would not die. He would _never_ die. Not truly.

Adrian had only finally looked up to view the body of his father. The body that would remain soulless, from now until the end of time itself.

How long he spent kneeling in the puddle of his own blood before someone joined him at his side, he could not say. But the hand he felt at his remaining upper arm, had pulled him to his feet. "My liege," the voice had urged him quietly. " _Please."_

The voice had begged him, in that one word… Begged him to lead. Begged him to be the king that he had agreed to become. To not give up, as he so desperately wished to do. In one word, his burden was realized. Adrian had shut his eyes, and said goodbye to Veil - for now, at least. And there was the insidious poison of 'hope,' rearing its head.

"He must be cremated," were his first spoken words after the long silence after his defeat. "I will not have his body possessed." The idea of some wandering ghost or demon possessing the body of his father like a puppet was a vile one he would not entertain.

Adrian was a rational man. Through all the pain and the loss of the moment, he understood that great power dwelled within the body of his father - and if any spirit were able to claim it as their own, he would have a _new_ manner of horror to tangle with.

No. Enough complications for one day.

"Yes, my lord," came the voice at his side. "It shall be done." The voice belonged to Lyon - the faithful priest of his father's blood. Lyon was, in truth, Dracula's only remaining direct fledgling. All others were at least one step removed - 'grandchildren' to his bloodline. But the priest remained, where all others had become dust.

Lyon was Vlad's most truthful and faithful friend, for all their complexities. The priest served as a reminder of compassion to the vampire king. And Vlad had, in turn, attempted to prove such compassion useless. But now, as Asmodeus had said - 'the King is Dead, Long Live the King.'

Vlad was gone. His soul, torn free of its cage, and torn to pieces on the wind of the living world, where it had no way to exist. It seemed Lyon was now the eldest vampire to walk the earth. And yet, he had referred to Adrian as 'liege.' It seemed the Priest did not consider his service to his family line done just yet.

Adrian's own relationship with Lyon was troubled and storied at best. But in this moment, he was comforted by the priest's hand on his arm. Of all things in this world thrown into question and turmoil, one thing remained constant in Lyon. Adrian could rely on him… he could trust him. That was a great and sheltering boon in the winds of chaos that had just consumed him.

"Once I am healed… we will speak of how to attend to this Castle and all who dwell within," Adrian said quietly to the taller man.

The message was clear. _My duty comes first._ His love for Veil had not faltered. She had been robbed of her free will - robbed of her right mind. But Asmodeus would do no harm to mankind - he had demonstrated he had little desire to rule the world. The denizens of the castle, though… were another matter entirely. Those monsters that lived _here_ would spell ruin for all of the earth if left unchecked.

And Asmodeus certainly would no do _true_ harm to Veil, especially now that he had taken control of her mind. She was in no danger in his care, only indignity. But those here in this castle… if he were to storm off into the darkness in search of her, they would suffer and fall - or worse, would leave the world a bloody mess in their wake.

Adrian had a duty as King. He would serve his people. He would temper the bloodlust of the monsters within these walls - as he had wished his father had done, for so many centuries.

Veil would live forever. And so would he.

They would be reunited… In time.

But he would not neglect his role when he had only just donned the proverbial crown. This was his burden to shoulder, his duty to perform. And so… Adrian had become King.

Once his arm had healed, and he had recovered from his wounds at the fight with Asmodeus, he had seen to the proper burial of his father's ashes with those of his mother's. He had allowed himself time to grieve - his family was now truly dead, and gone.

How many times had he driven his sword through his father's chest - and wished him to lay dead for all eternity? But now that he was truly irretrievable… he found his world sorely lacking. A void, where the memories of his childhood played.

Adrian had believed that he knew loneliness - but now, he saw his folly. Now he fully grasped the pain that Vlad had felt at the loss of Lisa - the ache that remained, when love was not lost but _stolen_.

Yet Adrian vowed he would not make the same mistakes as his father. He would not put his pain and grief above all else. No - he would not use this castle as a weapon, meant to destroy.

Adrian had expected wrath from the residents of the castle. He had expected snide remarks and violence - challenges to his right to rule. But… none came. In fact, all the opposite - all those he would thought would scoff at his position upon the throne knelt before him and pledged their fealty. Even his 'cousin' Elizabeth.

There was no single challenge to Adrian's reign, in all those thirty years.

He was not sure if he was glad for it, or not.

The first matter at hand, had been to uproot the castle as a whole, and move it somewhere equally as inconspicuous as its appearance in the Romanian mountains. He would not have the armies of the world bearing down upon them.

The second matter at hand, was to curtail the egregious murder and suffering encouraged during his father's rule. Humans were not _cattle_ to be herded and slaughtered. He would not deny the predators of the castle their prey - but he demanded a respect be paid to those who spent their lives to feed that primordial hunger. But he would see his home restored to the way it was when Lisa lived - when his father knew temperance. When his father knew _mercy._

His was a world of darkness… of death. That was undeniable. But what could be controlled was the magnitude by which it bit hungrily at the world of the living.

Adrian opened the doors to the castle to any and all who sought its shelter. He expected none to step through the gates in this modern world - but instead grew surprised at how numerous were those who came to find refuge. Many creatures of darkness came home - those more 'mild' creations that had little desire to bathe in blood as did their more extreme kin.

But what surprised him… was how many _humans_ sought refuge amongst the castle's corruption. For a world that had become so much more intelligent and accepting over the centuries - it was still brutally ignorant. Many who came were there to feed the darkness in their own hearts. But even many more, were simply looking for a way to live anew.

Shockingly, many came to find a place where they could seek out their desires to be prey - as well as predator. If seduction be truly a kinder fate than violence, he could not say… but when those fell willingly at the feet of their killers, he could not cast judgement.

It was a time of peace… of balance achieved.

But still, his nights were haunted. Still, he reached out in the darkness, hoping to find her there beside him. Wishing to hear her laughter - her playful and flashing comments. To catch the sight of her sapphire hair glinting in the moonlight.

Every night, he was disappointed, and he felt his chest cleaved in two.

It was one day, as he sat in his chair, looking out at the papers scattered across the table in front of him - his father's table. His father's chair. All of this, was what Vlad had made. He felt he had no cause to inherit it - birthright be damned. It would never feel as though it was 'his.'

Adrian had only pulled the reins of the great best his father had mastered. Thirty years was not enough time to feel as though he were anything more than playing in his father's shoes. A child, playing 'pretend.'

It was that day, when finally Lyon spoke to him of the matter that haunted his dreams.

"My lord. Do you not believe that it might be time…?"

"Time for what, Lyon?" Adrian asked, lifting his gaze from sightlessly staring at the papers in front of him. He honestly had no clue to what the priest was alluding.

Lyon bowed low at the waist, folding a hand in front of him, as if to apologize for his transgression. "To search her out."

Adrian winced, and looked away. He had hoped, over these past thirty years of peace, that the pain would quiet and die. That his loneliness would become a dull roar in her absence. And yet, it seemed not so. The priest was painfully observant and keen on his ability to see the hearts of those around him - but he had thought he had done at least a passable performance at tucking it all away. "Is it so obvious?" He let his eyes slip shut, and he leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight almost press on him like a physical burden.

"I have seen this pain once before, my lord… In the eyes of your father. In his rage, he lusted for revenge and neglected his duties as King. You have not." Lyon stepped towards him, and he felt the priest's hand fall on his shoulder. "This is the longest that this place has known a semblance of belonging within this world. Of existing within the balance of life and death within this world. For that, I, and those who dwell here, are… eternally grateful to you. But…"

The priest was not a known conversationalist - perhaps better than Adrian himself, if by barely. So this amount of preamble was meant to soften something else. "But…?"

Lyon removed his hand from his shoulder, and he heard the priest walk across the room towards the windows. "What was it about your mother's death that birthed in you such a desire to wallow in suffering?"

Ah. There it was. Adrian opened his eyes, and glared at the back of the priest's head. "Tread carefully."

Lyon turned his head to shoot him a thin smirk. "You sound much like your father, just now. And no, I shall not. I always spoke my mind to him, and so - I shall the same with you. And _you,_ my dear boy… are not the embodiment of wrath that he was so prone to become. You will forgive me if I do not carry your threats with the same weight."

'Dear boy.' Vlad would would have struck out at the priest for such impertinence. Yet he was right - and Adrian could not fault him for it. In doing so, he found himself simply confirming Lyon's exact point. Very well. Adrian sighed darkly. "I do not wish to ' _wallow in suffering'_ as you state."

"Ah? Truly? Then why have you not asked for anyone to search her out, in all these years? Why have you spent not a word on her, to anyone?"

"I have a duty as King of this cursed place," Adrian snarled, anger coming to the surface quickly. He tamped it back down, and forced his hand to relax - he had been suddenly gripping the arm of the chair with such fierceness, he thought the wood might snap.

The castle was not without its influence, after all.

"One performed admirably, as I stated. But we are a _legion,_ my Lord. You could have sent anyone in search of her. Even if you did not wish to leave here to do the deed yourself. So why, then?"

Adrian turned his gaze back to the papers lying strewn about on the table in front of him. Notes, missives… letters from across the world. He saw none of them. His thoughts were too far deep in his own mind.

Lyon's question was a valid one.

One Adrian himself did not know the answer.

"Either, you believe that she somehow may be _happier_ as a mindless slave in Asmodeus' care…"

Adrian scoffed at that. Absurd.

"Or you wish yourself to suffer the pain of her loss. Why? Do you think you are paying for your father's sins, even now?"

Adrian ran his hand across his forehead, trying to sooth a headache he felt edging in around the corners. "I can see why he fought with you so frequently…" And worse still… the priest was right. Adrian could have sent an army to hunt down Asmodeus and retrieve Veil - or, try, at least. He could have sent anyone to follow them until the time was right. He could have done _anything._ And yet… he had not. He had focused his efforts on this place, and his curse.

It was a selfish kind of self-hatred, now that he took a moment to reflect on it.

"Find her, Adrian… For I do not know how long you can suffer the weight of this loss, before it hollows you out, and leaves you empty… as so many like us become. The other is to suffer a tyrant - and I have done that enough in my years to do so again."

"It has been thirty years, priest. I know not where they have gone, nor do I believe Asmodeus so easily found."

"Good, then, that the answer for that has just arrived."

Adrian looked up, surprise showing plainly on his features, he knew. "What?!"

"Someone came to our doors this morning, and said that your 'prayers had been heard.' He is here to help you. To help _both_ of you."

Adrian shot to his feet, and approached Lyon with the intent of… he did not know. Strike him for not telling him sooner? Shake him for being so roundabout? Instead, he simply demanded "Where?!"

"Your library," Lyon said with a slight bow of his head.

Adrian spared not a word before disappearing in a roar of bats. For the first time, in thirty years… he felt… hope.

* * *

New York was beautiful. Alistair had always believed so. Nowhere else in this world expressed such raw humanity such as this place, in his humble opinion. It was raw and dirty - graceful and refined - elegant and garish. It was love, it was hate, it was passion and apathy. It was, in its sparing reach… _perfect._

Standing here on the balcony of 'his' penthouse loft, he could see out into the far reaches of the city. Its monuments to greed and power - its monuments to the working class with their dingy cement complexes - all dotted with water towers and the like. From here, it all turned into a single picture. No longer was each building individual - each building was simply a part of the whole.

And so, he came here. With Her. His Selina. The two of them, each inhuman in their own right, pretending to be something that they were not. He was more a handbag than he was human - and she… was a construct.

A construct of life. A construct of a human. A construct of a woman who loved him.

He was the fallen archangel of _lies._ How perfect was it then, that he had arranged about him so - like so many carefully placed playing cards - a tower of lies?

Alistair - as he had come to refer to himself in his mind, these past thousands of years - found himself wrapping an arm around Selina and pulling her close to him. She was shorter than he - although not a difficult feat by any means - and it was easy to tuck her against his chest, her back to his, and wrap his arms around her.

She let out a small chuckle and leaned back into him. He had instructed her to keep her hair the sapphire blue she had come to dye it in her days as 'Veil.' Truth be told, he loved how it looked on her. It suited her.

Truth be told, it broke his heart that he had to shatter her mind to keep her at his side. While there were no parts of her personality that were missing - no sign that she was merely his prisoner - it nagged at the back of his mind like an itch.

For he was the King of Lies. He was the King of Deception. All his life, he had practiced the art. Since the beginning of time, he could spin a web into a thousand mile yarn and catch any he wished within its net. Yet he, himself, could not stand to be lied _to._

How wonderfully ironic.

If he could damn God in his heavens any more than he already had, he would issue the curse once more. For here he stood - holding against him his _perfect_ creation. His Selina. His love. Who he would adore until the end of time.

And it felt hollow.

For _she_ did not love _him._

"Master?"

 _Not willingly._

"Hm?" he finally responded. Selina had looked up at him - and he realized that he had been clutching her to him - squeezing her like she was a balloon in the wind that might escape him at any moment. "Forgive me." He relaxed his arms, and tried to calm his tumultuous mind.

"What is the matter?"

 _If I told you, you would only forget._ His spell was perfect. It was merely an eighth string added to his masterpiece of a puppet. Seven sigils decorated her body - each one keeping a soul bound to a body of his making. The eighth… the one emblazoned over her heart… kept her _his._

And anything that would make her anything _but,_ would be stricken from her mind like water over glass.

Every day that passed, he hoped she would have the strength to shatter it. Every morning, he woke and hoped to find the symbol on her heart had dissipated. But it was impossible. He had sunk his talons deep into her soul with the spell he cast. It may as well have been a poisoned dagger - a death blow, even as it was arresting her in time,at his side.

"Come," he instructed her, and took her hand and led her back into their loft. It was expensively decorated - but not lavish. He was not one for palaces or needless self-aggrandizing. But, apparently, he was one for masochistic experiments.

Selina followed him obediently, as she had for the past thirty years. For never would there be another mind so devoted to him, as hers. A heart so dedicated to his every want.

 _Empty. Hollow. A lie._

The words haunted him as he brought her to stand in front of a mirror. She wore a low-cut top. (As he preferred. He did not sculpt a perfect body for himself and then wish to hide it away, after all.) It detailed the usurping sigil emblazoned over her heart.

"What're we doing?" she asked with a quirk to her lips.

Alistair moved to stand behind her, and looked at their shared reflection. Beautiful. Perfect. _Empty. Hollow. A lie._

He sighed, and took her hands by the wrists, and turned them over in his hands, turning the inside of her forearms up to be reflected in the glass. "Tell me what your markings are for. Tell me what they mean."

"They are how you first bound my soul to this body you made," she said with an incredulous laugh. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Count them out. Name them all."

Clearly perplexed, she sighed, and decided to play along. "First, the circle of Michael and Lucifer, on the top of my neck," she touched it with her fingers. "Second, Raphael and you, Asmodeus. Third, Uriel and Leviathan. Forth, Gabriel and Mephistopheles. At the base of my spine is Azrael and Mammon. On my left arm, as six, is the mark of Zadkiel and Bael. On the right, seven, Anael and Beelzebub." She rolled her eyes. "Did I ace the pop quiz?"

"You missed one, my love…" Alistair said with a dark sigh. "The marking over your heart, here." He let his hand trail the marking over her heart, and he leaned down to rest his chin on her head. He knew what was about to happen - for it was the same skip of the record he had induced in her dozens of times, again and again, over the past thirty years.

Her face screwed up in confusion as she struggled to accept the fact that she saw, reflected in the mirror, something that could not be. "There are only seven," she said, warily. "There can _only be seven."_

"Yes."

"But… I- I-" She stammered uselessly for a moment, and put her own hand ot the mark on her chest. "I know it's there. I know it _should_ be there. But I know it… it's…" she shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense."

Two truths, competing for purchase. A mind, commanded to _love and obey above all else,_ struggling to take two inconsistent facts and reconcile them. It was a hopeless endeavor.

Alistair caught her in his arms, easily catching her frame in his inhuman strength, as her mind chose darkness over the intractable situation it had come to find itself. Faced with such mismatched truth, it did all that it could do. It merely… removed the conflict.

When she woke, she would not remember any of what had just transpired.

Asmodeus sunk to his knees, cradled her in his arms, and wept.

* * *

Adrian appeared inside his library - far smaller and less grandiose than the castle's main hall. But also far more private. But why would Lyon have brought him here, and not one of the many halls far more appropriate for a meeting?

A man stood at a table, a stack of books in front of him - and he was flipping the pages of one of them with a smile across his features. He was handsome - and while he looked human, Adrian could tell he was no such thing. The feel of the power around him was familiar and yet… he could not place it.

He had curly brown hair, that came down around his face, nearly to his cheekbones but well kept. A muted scarf of multi colors wrapped around his neck, and he wore a brown peacoat. His fingers were stained with ink, as if he spent all day and night of every moment of his life writing with a well of ink.

When the man looked up, he smiled broader - and it was a kind, genuine smile that reached his sharp blue eyes. "It is wonderful to finally meet you, Adrian Tepes. King of the castle," he said with a bow of his head.

"Do you know me, Sir?" Adrian asked warily, and approached him. Adrian had chosen to update his wardrobe over the years - but his sword still remained at his side. He resisted the urge to draw it. Lyon had thought this man to be friend - but something sparked around him with an immense strength. Adrian was not a violent man - but neither was he quick to pay trust where it was undeserved.

"I believe you could say that I do." The man extended his hand. "I am Azrael. Your 'father in law.'"

The look on Adrian's face must have been remarkable, for the man - _archangel -_ laughed. It was a real, jovial laugh and lowered his hand. "I am not what you were expecting. Death rarely is," he said with a glint to his eye.

"You are… the aspect of Death who created Veil," Adrian clarified. There were many aspects of Death - all who seemed to know her in one way or another. He was familiar with the churlish, arrogant spectre of death who roamed these halls - not this… archangel of God, standing before him with a gentle, benign and warm smile of affection on his face.

"Yes. I am," his smile turned mournful. "I have come to aid you in taking her away from Asmodeus."

Adrian felt that same, poisonous surge of hope form in his heart. He tried to tamp it back away where it belonged. Wariness and reason must prevail. "Why now…? After all this time?" Adrian asked, and very much resisted the urge to grasp his blade. "Are you two not brethren?"

"We are brothers. But she is my _daughter,"_ Azrael insisted. "Of which I… will only ever have the one, I remind you." He sighed. "As for why 'now?' The matter is complex."

Adrian narrowed his crimson eyes - and let his natural darkness fill his words. It was not meant to be a threat… but he would not have more lies and deceit. "I have time."

Azrael chuckled and leaned his hands on the back of a chair. "I have watched you all your life, my dear Adrian. I have seen you as a child - and watched you grow into a prince. I watched you struggle with your humanity and your own morality as you became a knight. And now, I wished to see what you would do as King. To see what manner of man you would become."

"You wished to see if I was… _worthy_ of your daughter?" Adrian narrowed his eyes angrily. "She is being held as the unwilling slave to an _arch-demon,_ " he dutifully reminded the angel. "You prefer her to be in his grasp?!"

"Asmodeus loves her - beyond measure and beyond words," Azrael said reluctantly, and cast his blue eyes down to the table, and the books in front of him. "Asmodeus is _content._ And in a way, they both are. While it is a lie, and a construct-" he cut off Adrian's angry retort before it had a chance to leave his lips with a raise of his hand. "-and I recognize that to you, this is inexcusable - it has been some of the barest moments of peace my brother has known since the dawn of this world. Understand why I took great care before deciding to help shatter it."

Adrian shut his eyes and took a moment to calm his furious anger. He wished to throttle the archangel - to clasp him by the collar and shake him. Veil was not a bauble - a toy given to a toddler to keep it pasified. Yet, in the same manner - he could not yet understand what it would be like to suffer rejection by the only thing you desired since the _dawn of time._

There was a small part of Adrian that could empathize with Asmodeus' plight. To desire nothing but love, and to turn to forging your own solution - only to have your 'perfect match' turn from you in disgust. It would shatter any man's sanity. Yet it did not condone the unwilling slavery of another soul. Even if Adrian were not so very much personally invested in Veil's freedom, he would judge it inexcusable.

Was that not part of his role, now? To judge? Even in just thirty years, he had presided over dozens of disputes between his 'subjects.' They looked at him to decide what to do with their intractable conflicts.

Adrian consoled himself that Asmodeus' crime was truly unconscionable. Even if he _did_ have a personal interest in it. "You were wrong, not to intercede sooner."

"Maybe," Azrael conceded. "But I am prone to observation in lieu of action - it is my nature to let things unfold as they may." He paused. "Especially in the face of injustice."

As he was 'death' himself, Adrian could admit understanding how that could be the case. He shook his head. "This is neither here nor there, forgive me."

"It is human - to wish to know the why behind inequity. Never apologize for it - or indeed, any of those traits you share with your mother's blood."

The look on the archangel's face was so… _kind,_ Adrian was nearly taken aback by it. He couldn't help but smile faintly back at the unusual nature of the archangel of death.

"But, come!" Azrael lifted his palms from the back of the chair to place them down again exuberantly. "It has been too long, as you say - and I do not wish to make you wait much longer. If you wish to go - I will take you to them."

"I cannot defeat them both," Adrian said ruefully - as loathe as he was to admit it. "Veil is a match for me in battle, and Asmodeus will not stand lightly by."

"Veil _was_ a match for you, before you commanded the strength of the castle," Azrael pointed out. "But you are correct. Face both, and you would fall. My hope would be to avoid such things…" He seemed reluctant, and after a pause, spoke again. "I can free her of the curse that Asmodeus has placed on her."

"Why do you say this with such dread?" Adrian asked honestly.

"I do not know what the spell he has over her has done to her." Azrael took a breath. "Perhaps she will return as she was, with all memories of you restored - and stand with you. Perhaps she will look back upon these past thirty years and see the devotion of a man who loved her, and stand with Asmodeus. Or, perhaps, it will leave her mind a shell. I… cannot make any promises. Breaking a spell like this is as breaking an egg - I do not know how the pieces may fall."

"If there is little that I know of her, it is that she would rather be a mindless corpse than what she is now," Adrian said quietly. "And if she chooses to stand against me, I will lay my life down at her feet," Adrian said without hesitation.

"You have a kingdom with which to concern yourself now," Azrael reminded him. "If you die, what then?"

The weight that had pressed him down for the past thirty years returned. Adrian turned away to escape the scrutiny of the archangel, and turned to look up at the soaring stained glass window that dominated the wall of his personal library. It was not of an archangel or demon - but instead, of his father and mother. He had the piece commissioned shortly after his 'rise to the throne.' What a laugh.

"Then the castle will fall, and I will rise again in a hundred years time. I will resume where I left off," he stated flatly. "For such shall continue until the sun burns this planet away to dust."

"Good… You understand, then."

Adrian looked back to the archangel, curious at his words. There was a morose happiness in his face - the same kind of sad joy at seeing an old friend a funeral, perhaps. He gestured his hand - and Adrian watched as a door merely appeared from nowhere in space. The jamb looked cut from black stone obsidian - and had no business being emblazoned onto the wall where it lay.

But was one more impossibility, in a place he called home?

* * *

It was not two steps through the door, before he felt a blade placed against his throat. Adrian drew up short - and could barely register that he was standing in some strange abode where the sun was shining bright through large glass windows - a fact that made him squint. He was not accustomed to the sun at his best of times - let alone after thirty or more years living within the corruption of the castle, which was devoid of such things.

The blade placed against his throat was familiar, if steeped in melancholy. It was the end of a long glaive - a sick, and vicious thing, forged for one person. Veil.

She was as he remembered her - sapphire hair, flashing dark eyes filled with impetuous rage, glaring at him as though she wished him to simply burst into flames where he stood. It was though she was removed from time entirely - that the thirty years of time that had passed had done nothing to change her. For he, he did not know if the same could be said. What had thirty years of playing 'king' done to warp him?

At the sight of her, he could feel his heart crack open. How many times would he be forced to fight someone he loved…?

"I was wondering how long it may take you to find us," a voice - sounding like a dagger cloaked in velvet, spoke from nearby. Looking up from the glaive pressed against his throat, he saw the archdemon standing near a bar, pouring himself a drink. "Although I fear I do not think you have been looking," Alistair commented. "Which begs several complicated and I fear embarrassing questions."

Adrian ignored his goading attempts to provoke him into conversation. "Free her."

"No." Alistair finished making himself a drink - and turned to look at him with one hand folded idly behind his back, the other lifting the elegantly cut highball glass to his lips. "And that door did not manifest itself. Show yourself, dear brother."

Adrian saw movement out of the corner of his eye - though he did not turn to look, and instead kept his gaze trained on his enemy. He did not meet the gaze of Veil who stood before him - for he did not know if he could look into her face and not burst into tears in agony for what had become of her.

"You are aiding and abetting my foes now, I see," Alistair commented dryly. "How… _biblical."_

"I have watched you, brother-" Azrael began, and Adrian was surprised at the gentleness - indeed the agony that dripped from his words. There was a well of sentiment there for his kin, that would never be written of in the human scriptures. "I have seen your doubt! I have heard your agony, calling out for the end to the lie…"

"Enough!" Asmodeus snarled and slammed his glass down hard enough on the counter to shatter it - and he sighed deeply at his lack of control. "Azrael, do not presume to know me…"

"But I do. And I shall continue to do so. You hold my daughter prisoner against her will - and while it brought you solace to have her company for a time, I _know_ that time has passed."

"You have been spying on me."

"Of course," Azrael said with a quirk of his lips. "I watch. It is what I do."

"Should I kill them, Master?" Veil finally spoke. Her words - the first he had heard in thirty years from a voice he prayed he would hear every day he knelt at the shrine - drew him finally to look down at her. "... Why does this one look like he's going to vomit?" she asked with a wrinkle of her nose.

Alistair laughed - but it was a vicious, horrid sound that reeked of hatred pointed in all directions. "No, my _Selina-"_ he used her 'true' name pointedly. "Let him live, for now."

"There-" Azrael exclaimed. "Simply there, is proof that you understand. Simply _there-_ in your command not to behead him - is proof that my words are true. Free her, Asmodeus."

"No," the archdemon stated inarguably. "She belongs to _me._ " Asmodeus stepped towards Azrael, and his voice became a low growl. He began to stalk towards his brethren, his eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously and viciously promising of violence. "She is mine, now and for all of time itself. I have shaped her. I have molded her. _I have made her!"_

" _We_ made her," Azrael corrected, and it was the first time Adrian had heard the archangel edge towards anger. "And _you_ forget _with whom you are speaking._ " The kind, mop-haired, bookish creature suddenly flashed - like an afterimage superimposed upon the waking world - into something else entirely. Something _dark…_ something befitting his title of the Archangel of Death. It was like a lightning flash - too fast to be seen in the moment, and only registered as an after-thought.

Asmodeus took the threat, and his steps faltered, hitched, and he took one half-step backwards. The King in Hell feared the Archangel of Death. Adrian could merely swallow thickly in his throat - and even as the Lord of the Castle, as King of all the monsters upon this earth, he felt… quite numerously underprepared.

"If I break the spell," Azrael said with a glance towards Veil and Adrian, where they stood - with her still on guard, blade of her weapon pressed against his throat. "I may shatter her mind. I may break the spells that bind her soul to that body. I may destroy her. This is something none of us in the room wish to see happen."

"So be it," Alistair snarled. "I will not free her!"

Adrian felt no small well of grief in his chest as he could _hear_ the Veil that he knew quipping sarcastically that 'she was standing right here' - and yet the woman that he saw before him, Selina - stood silently. As if she could not process what was happening around her, so merely stuffed her proverbial fingers in her ears.

In some fantasy in his mind - in some dream he had played over in his head a hundred thousand times - he could see himself convincing her to remember him. Breaking through the wall of this black magic, and calling out to the love she had held for him in her heart. It was a fairytale - it was childish. But he had held that candle of hope that perhaps the sight of him, could break her of this spell.

But it was a lie - told to himself in the darkness to console his loneliness. For what he saw before him - was a creature that was hopelessly… and blind. "What have you done to her…?" Adrian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I will not let her go," Alistair insisted. "I will not give up that which I have worked _so hard to achieve."_

"This is… this is not _her,"_ Adrian reached up a hand to touch Veil - and she jolted at his movement in surprise. Her expression was one of wary confusion and anger still - and she shifted her grip on her glaive.

"Master… Can I kill him?"

"No, not yet, my love," Alistair said quietly.

"You've muzzled her," Adrian felt the indignity of it all start to well in his chest. "She - who would not be _tempered_ by anyone… Veil would have rather be strung out upon the rack than what you have seen fit to do! You have _dared_ belittle her into a lie of herself. And you claim to love her?!" That was enough.

Adrian blinked from where he had been standing and appeared in front of Asmodeus - and found his hands wrapped around the archdemon's throat. Before he could even register what he had done, he had Asmodeus leaning back over the counter of his home's kitchen and was attempting to choke the very life out of him. No - he was attempting to _bring him pain._

The battle that followed, Adrian could not retell if he had been interrogated to do so. He knew only that anger had overcome him. That he had a vicious and violent _need_ to see the archdemon suffer. And he had done, as best as he was able, to wreak such horrors upon the man as he had never done to another creature.

Furniture had shattered. Walls were punched in. He was bleeding - wounded - he had talons sunk into his side, and he in turn had run his sword through the archdemon a half dozen times or more. What became of Veil or Azrael in the fight, he could not say. For if he had turned his attention for one second away from the archdemon, he would have fallen dead at his feet.

He could feel the bloodlust of the castle pushing him forward. He could feel his _hate_ and his _need_ driving him. Revenge. Love. Hunger. He would taste this creature's blood - or he would die this day. It was that simple.

 _Simple._

That is what the power that dwelled him truly was. Simple. The desire to feel that moment where a creature passed from living, into dead. That intangible phenomenon that moved like a whisper upon the wind. For the first time in all his days - he understood what it was that drove his father. What it was that continued to drive the castle and the power that beat at its heart. And it was, indeed, a heartbeat. A tempo of a bloody creature - and with each _thump_ as a heart, drumming its last.

And today, it would be Asmodeus.

It would be temporary, he knew. That no matter how _dead_ he made the man, one cannot destroy an archdemon. But he would tear those cursed wings from his back, and rip out his eyes from his sockets, before he let the creature defile his love for one day more.

The fight had long since exploded out from the place Alistair had come to call home - long since moved from rooftop to rooftop in this cityscape he did not recognize. He cared not for the rubble their foray sent sprawling into the streets below. He cared not for the damage caused, or the lives that may have been taken, in their fight.

For the black wings that he saw diving at him - the flashing glint of talons answered by the silver of his steel - were all that mattered.

A talon dug into his side - and he snarled in pain, fangs extended - as the archdemon in front of him, now fully in his 'true shape' before him - landed a deep blow. He in turn, summoned a dagger, and pressed it half an inch into the throat of the creature before him. For a moment, the inertia of the battle was lost. Where they stood, or how they reached that point, was inconsequential. They were in a stalemate.

Long black hair - marred by the stray grey line, framed the features of a creature that was old as time. That had wandered the desert for longer than Adrian could imagine breathing. There was a power in those sharp, blue-green eyes that by no small means instilled in him a need to bow down and pray. For this was a creature removed by one step from God himself. And he, merely a boy - a _child_ \- sought to spite in his arrogance?

Yes. Precisely.

"What an uproarious love triangle we make," Asmodeus said to him dryly from behind the red scarf that wrapped about the lower half of his face. "Don't you think? A demon and a vampire. Fighting over a homunculus."

"A simplistic view," Adrian said through gritted teeth. He could feel his fangs pressing against his lower lip. He twisted the blade in Asmodeus throat, just barely.

"Ah, but a wonderful narrative." The talon in his side deepened its grip, when Adrian made move to resume their fight. "Are we to continue like this?"

"Until one of us dies, yes."

"And then what?" he laughed - a sick, sarcastic sound. "You will rise in a hundred years time. I will rise in that time or thereabouts, give or take a century or ten. Time matters not, to creatures such as we. I see no solution to our dilemma."

Adrian watched him coldly for a moment, before pulling the knife from the archdemon's throat. Asmodeus seemed to appreciate the desire to negotiate, and in turn, withdrew the talons of one of his great wings out from his side, and took a step back.

After a moment, after carefully thinking over his words, Adrian finally spoke. "If you break the spell, will she remember these past thirty years?"

"... Yes," Alistair admitted, unsure as to where the dhampir was going with his question.

"Then she will have thirty years of knowledge of your life together. Of how you would treat her, if she stayed at your side." Adrian brushed himself off, and felt the wound in his side already stitching itself back together.

Asmodeus growled low in his throat - and it betrayed his own insurity in his worthiness. That was a great and open wound Adrian had prodded at with his words. Good. For while Adrian considered himself a novice in such things as manipulation or negotiation - he had thirty years to learn his father's trade, after all. "Free her. Let her choose betwixt our two damnable selves."

"You know _quite well_ she will favor you," Asmodeus snarled.

"Why?" Adrian said, a query and a riposte both.

Asmodeus winced - and he turned his face away from the dhampir. He had struck a deeper wound with that one word, than he had in their battle.

 _For what you did to her is unforgivable. And of that, you are painfully aware,_ he confirmed to himself silently as he watched the archdemon struggle with his own convictions.

"You are beaten," is all Adrian said aloud.

In a blink - Adrian was pressed against a brick wall at his back - and the talon of a wing was at his throat once more, threatening to tear it out. Asmodeus was hovering close to his face - the 'false arms' of his wings keeping the dhampir pinned easily to the brick. "She will tire of you, whelp. That is - _if her mind has survived!"_ The creature let out a low, cruel laugh, and withdrew from him slowly - the outburst of anger resolved. "I will not free her. Let my _brother_ work his ways, if he will. May her mind be a _shattered husk!"_

"You would wish destruction on her, rather than she live in this world away from your side?"

"Of _course,"_ Asmodeus snarled.

"Then you are not worthy of love."

Adrian was never quite sure why his cold statements of fact were so impactful to those around him. Certainly his father reacted poorly to such overarching and judgemental statements. He merely thought he was stating the obvious, whenever he opened his mouth. And yet - Alistair flew into a rage. He roared in anger at his words - but instead of lashing out against him, he curled his dark wings around himself - and in a swirl of black feathers and what he thought might be blue flame - the archdemon was gone.

Gone to where, he could not say.

Adrian let out a breath - more out of habit, than need, perhaps. The battle with the archdemon was over - for now. While he doubted that would be the last time he would ever tangle with the eternal creature that was the 'King in Hell' - for now, for a time, the battle was done.

But Veil…

It was about then, that Adrian became aware of the sound of high-pitched, shrieking sirens. Alarms of some kind. The humans had come to react to the destruction that Adrian and Asmodeus had levied up their city. It was time for him to leave - and time for him to return to the matter at hand.

With that, he exploded into a swarm of white bats, and took off back towards whence they had come. The path of carnage was easy for him to trace. The feeling of the sun was scalding him - but he would suffer it. He had no other choice.

Finally, coming to rest on the balcony of the archdemon's (hopefully former) home, he took his human form, and shrugged off the pain that dogged his frame. He had not seen this much sun in a very long time. As a true dhampir, he could have suffered it well enough - but as whatever monstrosity he now was since taking the throne - it tore at him far worse.

The scene in front of him, brought him to a halt. Azrael was bleeding - or at least, had been at one point. His clothing was torn, and crimson marred the gashes. He was kneeling on the ground, in front of a body. Veil.

She was not moving - her eyes shut, lying upon the floor as if she were sleeping. She, too, was marked with cuts and bruises that would heal.

"It was not a quiet moment," Azrael admitted, and looked up at him sheepishly. "I am glad that you returned, and not he."

"As am I," Adrian quipped in a rare moment of dry humor. He walked forward, and knelt down at Veil's other side from the archangel. The mark on her chest was still there. She was… returning from the dead, he realized. The archangel had to resort to killing her, to quiet her.

"If I do this, it may shatter her mind," Azrael reminded, and held his hand over her chest - over the eighth mark that was present over her heart. "Be sure of this, before I proceed any further."

Adrian shut his eyes, and wondered which would be worse. Veil that was a prisoner and a sham - a slave to a madman, captive to his own hopeless love for her - or no one at all.

She had faced him down without a thought - without a sarcastic remark to the conversations around her. This was not Veil. This was not the woman who had stood against everything she had been destined to become - and said 'no.' Vowed that she would find her own way.

If this is how it ended… let it end for her in freedom. Not in servitude.

Adrian opened his eyes, and looked at Azrael - at Death - and placed his judgement as King. "Do it."

* * *

 **Sorry for the lag! I have ADHD sometimes when it comes to stories, and currently have two running at once.**

 _(The other story is called 'Dominion,' which is also a Castlevania fic.)_

 **I'm hoping to tie this story up in the next few days/end of next week. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, even if it is winding the story up towards the end. :)**


	25. Finale

Madness is a strange thing.

It's like being handed a 5 gallon bucket of broken glass, and being told it's a mirror. Great. That's nice. Thanks. Now put it back together.

Sitting on the floor with the bucket of broken glass, you have a few options. Reach in and pick out each piece, one by one - turn it over in your hand, and lay it down upon the floor. Each one in turn, threatening to cut you. Not badly - not enough to kill you - but a hundred thousand potential cuts with each piece of tiny, insignificant glass.

You could upend the bucket - send pieces sprawling about everywhere, and sift through the pile. Likely cutting yourself to ribbons in the process. But it would be, at least, faster. But oh, it would be painful.

Or choose to sit with the bucket of glass, accept that you will never have a mirror again - no matter how hard you try, and give up. Because there's no hope in ever reassembling the mirror back to the way it was. Not _really._ Pieces would be missing. Specs in between the shards would be impossible to replace. And even where the glass met perfectly - there would be cracks. Hairline faults in the surface. It would never be whole again.

So what was the point in trying?

Each time she reached into the bucket grab a new piece of glass, she had to ask herself that question. What was the point? Each time she turned it over in her hands, and felt the glass prick at her skin - each time she reflected on this broken, worthless chunk of glass, she asked herself 'why bother.'

The mirror was her, after all. This glass was _her,_ after all. Why was this broken mirror of her mind worth trying to salvage? Why spend all this time and effort piecing back together something that was so pointlessly _over?_ So worthless?

But she kept going. Sifting through the broken shards of her mind. How long she'd been like this - taking each metaphorical piece out of the bucket and looking it over, feeling it cut her hand, and debating where it should go in the puzzle - she wanted to stop.

She didn't know much about herself anymore. One thing she did know, though… was that she was stubborn. And the pain that it brought her to sift through the glass - to reach into the bucket and pull out another part of her own mind, and debate where it should go - was nothing compared to what it felt like to sit there and do nothing at all.

She looked down at her hands - cut from the glass of her own mind - and simply went back to each piece in turn. As she began to make progress - she began to dig into the bucket to find the larger chunks of glass. The big pieces. The important ones.

Who was she?

Who had she been?

Why was she like this?

Her hand wrapped around a large shard of glass. Black wings. Dark magic. A vampire. Death and blood and violence.

She put it down on the ground with the others, and debated if she should stop again. Was hers a life even worth salvaging?

Reaching into the bucket for another piece - she felt its answer. _Love._

She loved someone. And, maybe, just maybe - they loved her in return.

She placed it down with the other, and saw for the first time how two pieces might meet. She swiveled them around, and slid them together - and watched as the two pieces lined up. There was a crack - a fracture between the two - but they fit.

Hope. That was what _hope_ felt like.

It gave her the drive to go faster. Pulling chunks from the bucket now without any care for the cuts on her hands - and placing them down in an attempt to start to see the whole. In an attempt to see how it might all fit together.

Finally, she could start to see its shape. She placed her hand down against the glass - felt the cuts in her fingers as she touched one of the hairline fractures between the pieces. It would never be whole again. But maybe that was okay. Maybe she could lead the pieces together, and make a stained glass piece out of it. Take what was broken, and make something beautiful from it.

All at once, she became aware of the fact that she was… not in her own mind. Not in wherever that place was, with the broken mirror. Her hand was not touching broken glass any more - it was touching the leadwork of… a stained glass window. Running her fingertips along it, mirroring what she had been doing in her dream.

Was it a dream?

Can you be asleep, while you're awake?

Madness is a strange thing.

She blinked, and took her hand away from the stained glass, and tried to figure out where she was. Turning her head - it looked like a library of some kind. She was sitting on the stone sill of some massive window that stretched up over her tall enough that she could not make out what the glass was meant to represent. A pair of figures maybe - one in white, one in black.

A figure in black - the image of black wings, oil slick with colors like a raven, flashed in her mind and threatened to dump her back into that world of broken pieces. She shoved it aside, and refused to let it take her.

Her knees were pulled up to her chest - and she slowly let them stretch out. The room was lavish and heavily decorated in warm wood tones. It smelled of slightly musty books, and a wood fire that blazed in a hearth nearby. A figure sat on a sofa in front of the flame - his head in his hands. Long blond hair like silk tendrils fell around his face, obscuring it - and it glinted red and orange in the firelight.

Besides the crackle of the flame, the room was silent.

She slid from the window sill, and she watched his shoulders stiffen - but he didn't look up. Like someone afraid that looking would either confirm, or deny, their worry. But what he was worried over, she had no idea.

She didn't know anything, really. Didn't know where she was - who he was - who _she was._ Why she was here. What she was doing here. _Why_ she couldn't think straight.

Black wings, slicked like oil, and a hand pressed over her heart. Digging into it like steel, like a poison dagger in the dark. She'd been betrayed. Someone hurt her - someone did this to her.

But it wasn't the man, she saw forlorn and morose, struck with grief over some great loss, sitting before the fire. She walked, slowly and carefully - through the room towards him. She made her way around to stand beside him, and simply sunk down onto the cushion next to him. She didn't know what else to do.

It was only then, that he lifted his head to look at her - but just barely. Still afraid of what he might find. Why was he afraid of her? No. Not afraid _of_ her. But afraid of… what she'd become. Another piece of glass in the broken mirror, fitted into place. Another part of her mind, clicking back to where it belonged.

She looked down at her hands - and wondered why she couldn't see the cuts on her hands anymore. They'd been there a moment ago - hadn't they? A flash of an image in her mind - of her grasping some giant mirror and tearing it down on top of herself. Of a rain of broken shards around her. Of taking one of the pieces and tearing out her own throat. Of the blood that had poured from the gash in her neck like the flow of a waterfall. Hot and sticky - her own lifeblood.

She had killed herself. That was a real memory - not an imagined, broken piece of her mind. That mirror had been real. That was what he was afraid of. That she'd do it again. That she was still… broken.

How was she still alive, now? How could she remember all the times she had died, over and over again? She had, though. She knew she had. A hundred times or more, her heart had stopped beating. But this was… _this_ was real. _This_ place was real. That much she knew. That much had been put back together. She was no longer in the emptiness of her mind, surrounded by so much broken glass.

She reached out her hand, and took one of his in hers. Laced her fingers into his, and pulled it into her lap, and simply… held it. She didn't know why. She merely knew she wanted to. _Needed_ to.

"Veil..?" he spoke, his voice a hesitant whisper.

He said it like that was her name. Was it? Maybe. … No, probably. "I think so," she responded equally as wary. "But I…" she broke, having surprised herself with the sound of her own voice. "Did I kill myself? I… I remember a mirror."

"Yes."

It had brought him great pain, when she had. She remembered lying on the floor, dying in a puddle of her own blood, as he knelt at her side and clutched at her hands. He had wept. "I'm sorry," she said - and felt deeply much so for causing him pain.

"It's… it's alright," he said, and seemed unsure what else to say.

He was tense - his shoulders locked - sitting rigidly next to her. Terrified to move, or touch her, or speak - or anything. It was suddenly funny to her - and she wasn't sure why. But something about that reaction was familiar. Something about his nervousness bloomed something in her heart. Like turning on a switch for a light that had been there the whole time - but she had forgotten about entirely. Love. She loved him. Loved his stupid apprehensions about everything.

It made her want to laugh - want to cry - want to scream and throw herself into his arms, all at once. But everything jammed up into a ball and nothing could make it through the bottleneck. So instead, she just… leaned on his arm. Let her shoulder rest against him. He shifted to let his arm curl around her, and hold her to his side.

"I love you," she said to him quietly. It was as much of an admission as it was a question.

"And I, you," he responded, and placed his lips against her temple. "And I always will."

He was the reason she was trying. The feeling of his lips - tepid against her warm skin - clicked another piece of the broken mirror of her mind into place. The memory of kissing him - of holding him in her arms. Of what they meant to each other. The great white wolf, and a castle in the darkness. The prince - the knight - the king. _Alucard._ No. Not that. Not anymore. That name didn't matter anymore. Whatever reason he had worn that name was long gone. Was dead in the ground. Another piece slipped into place. "Adrian…?"

A noise like a single sob left his throat - and he turned to face her, and wrapped both his arms around her, hugging her to his chest. Everything was still a jumble and a mess in her head - but as the image was starting to come clear, more and more bits and pieces began to slip into place.

Veil buried her head into his shoulder, and just held him. Let herself grasp onto his coat like he were a raft in an ocean. And to her, he might as well have been. For it was because of him, she could feel her shattered mind trying to repair itself. It'd never be whole again - bits and pieces would always be out of place. Dust in the cracks. But for him… she would try.

She missed him. Missed him like a person would miss breathing air. "How long has it been?"

"Since…?"

"Since I've held you."

"Thirty-two years," he replied, his voice wavering.

Thirty two years. She almost cried and laughed at the same time again, and instead wrapped her arms around his neck and clutched herself closer to him. He responded by drawing her into his lap, so that she could sit sideways on him, and tuck herself closer to him. His cheek was lying atop her head. Who was a raft in the ocean to whom now, she didn't know. Probably both.

"It has been two years since you…" he began, but broke off, unable to finish.

Of course. She hadn't always been like this. She was weak - and spent two years lost in a fog of madness. "Since I broke."

"Were _broken,_ " he insisted. "This was not your doing..."

A tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek, and she felt her shoulders shake as more threatened to follow. He tilted her head away from him with the gentle touch of fingers under her chin - just enough to turn her to look up at him, and stroke the tear away from her with his thumb. "I'm sorry," she said again - feeling somehow… inadequate.

"No. Do not apologize. _Never_ apologize. Not to me - not to _anyone_ for what has happened. You were wronged, my love… you were torn to pieces. Any other would have sunk irretrievably into darkness. _You_ climbed from the pit that would have consumed all others," he said intensely.

Veil kissed him, then. Kissed him to say to him all that she could not put into words. That she loved him - and always would. That she could live for him. That she would never let him go. Even trapped halfway between life and death, sanity and _not -_ he would guide her from the darkness like a lantern in the night.

When she broke the kiss, he whispered to her. "I would wait for you for a _hundred thousand more,_ if I must. For you are my queen..."

* * *

For two years, he had lived with a ghost. For two years, he had been haunted by the woman he loved. But he would have suffered it for a thousand more - rather than to leave her the muzzled creature he found in the care of Asmodeus.

Breaking the spell the fallen archangel had placed over Veil had, as Azrael had warned - broken her. Sent her spiraling into madness. She had been little more than a wandering corpse - prone to outbursts and fits of violence either on herself or others. One that he had trouble containing, with her ability to walk through walls and pass in between this world and the spirit world at will.

More than once, she had found the means of attempting to end her own life. More than once, she had stabbed or struck him, out of a desperate attempt to lash out what was happening in her own mind. No manner of magic could cure madness - only time. Time, and hope.

And those were two things he had in abundance, it seemed.

So he waited.

For if there was one thing in this world in which he had faith, it was in Veil. In her indomitable nature. That she would find a way, where all else seemed gone - to wield the resilience she had bred in herself over her years.

The night that she had slunk next to him on the sofa of his library, he had nearly wept in joy. While she was not yet whole - and indeed, may never again quite be as she had been when Asmodeus took her - she had begun to mend.

Perhaps time could heal - perhaps he had been mistaken.

Her recovery had sped, after that - as much as it was able. Her memories began to return. While she seemed to have no recollection of what had happened in her thirty years of time in Alistair's 'care' - she could at least identify that the time was missing. That there was a gap in her timeline.

What he had not anticipated, was Death's involvement in her return. More than once, he had come to find her sitting and playing chess with him. She always lost - but she didn't seem to care. It was the banter for which she seemed to be in attendance. Bickering back and forth with her pseudo 'father,' arguing and trading cynical and snide comments.

One night, he found her standing on the balcony of his suite - looking out over the forests that surrounded the castle. He had walked up to slip his arms around her waist, and she leaned back into him. It was a comfortable pattern they had fallen into. He was happy. Content. He was no longer alone.

"I would like to go see Richard," she said quietly. "I know he's… either very old, or… dead by now. But either way, I…" she sighed. "I know it's stupid - to remind myself that we don't die, but everyone else does, but-"

"I understand," he responded, cutting off her labored explanation. "I have visited the grave of my old friends when I am able," he admitted. He had, more than once, laid flowers on the grave of Sypha and Trevor - of Richter and Maria. Although their names were worn and faded, their graves long since neglected and forgotten - _he_ would not forget. "I will instruct a scout to find him, and we will go."

"You don't need to come with me," she said with a faint smile up at him. "Unless you think I'm going to suddenly start hallucinating chickens and wander off." Ever since she had begun playing chess with Death - her humor had begun to return. For that reason alone, he allowed the irritating floating skeleton to linger in his personal wing of the castle.

"You might just," he quipped back in his dry manner, and she laughed. "I would do this with you. I would be there at your side when you see the passage of time. I have carried this burden alone, and it is not a kindness."

"Thanks," she said and leaned her head back against his chest, and he bent his own to kiss her gently at the temple. She shut her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "That'll make this less painful. Maybe more awkward, but less painful."

Adrian smirked at the dig, and squeezed her tighter. "So you think me awkward?"

"Extremely. And I don't 'think' it, I know it," she teased.

Gaps be damned - this was at least the Veil that he knew. While she may still suffer until the end of days the result of the cruelty paid to her by Asmodeus - she was not _muzzled._ She was not a muted, censored version of herself.

He growled playfully and whirled her about - pressing her back into the railing and stepping in to pin her there. She squeaked - and he knew quite well she could disappear and reappear a step away if she wished to. But she remained - looking up at him with that impish grin. He claimed it with his own lips, and kissed her with an ardent need. He felt her fingers tangle in the loops of his belt, and pull his hips flush against hers. No - this Veil certainly was not censored. And he would not have it any other way.

* * *

Veil had no idea what she should have expected. Somehow, stupidly - she had almost hoped that he'd be standing there, exactly how she left him - now thirty-three years having passed be damned.

For her, it'd only felt like on year at most. _At most._ Thirty years of her life had been taken away by Alistair. Thirty goddamn years. And that doesn't count the two she spent entirely off her rocker. So honestly, that asshole owed her thirty two years of her life.

Thirty two years, plus one spent with Adrian in the castle, patching her dumb brain back together - and she expected Richard to be exactly how she left him. Inevitably… no. When the scouts returned, she could have even maybe hoped for the address to a retirement home. What they returned with was a plot number.

So now, she stood, looking down at his name carved into a block. His wife's name, etched below him. She had outlived him by two years. The last time she had seen her long-time dearest friend, he had been tortured at Vlad's hand for betraying Adrian. She had known then that it was goodbye - that she'd likely never see him again - but hope was as insidious as it was fleeting.

Veil wasn't a 'sad' cryer. She wasn't a 'happy' cryer. It took a lot to drive her to that. What she was normally, was a 'frustrated and angry' cryer. Right now though - she was tempted to cry. Tempted to see the name of her friend etched in stone, and know she'd never see him again - not even in the afterlife. For where he went, she could never follow.

Veil crouched, and placed the flowers she had brought - even if it was stupid to bring flowers to a grave, it's not like they cared - they were gone. They were for her, really. The bouquet was a way to say goodbye to someone she had loved and cared for like they were family. It was the only closure she could get, honestly.

When she stood up, a hand rested on her shoulder in silent support. Silent understanding. At least she wasn't alone in what she was experiencing - as rare of an 'edge case' as her life was, Adrian shared it with her. He too, would now never truly die. He too, would spend his life burying mortal friends if he allowed himself to form bonds like that ever again. She hoped they both would. Losing Richard wasn't bad enough to lock herself away in an ivory tower like Vlad and so many of his kin had done. Refusing to acknowledge the outside word, for the pain that it would bring.

Veil let out a wavering breath, and looked to Adrian with a faint smile. Long lives like theirs were storied with loss and goodbyes. Storied with catastrophe and suffering. Those things came easy - finding the other things… friendship, love, happiness - those things took work.

Adrian drew close and placed a kiss on her forehead. He offered her no words - as he was want to do as his default. He had changed, in the thirty-and-change years she had been 'away.' But reigning as king was no more a burden than the one he carried when he sought to foil his father at every turn. Just a different one. If anything, he seemed far more at peace with what he now was. At peace with the hunger that burned inside him.

She took his hand, and they turned to leave. They walked for a time through the stones and down the gravel paths. Veil had debated for a time going to see his children - but they were grown adults with families of their own, now. If they knew who she was - she was a myth or a legend to them. If they didn't know about her - and part of her hoped they didn't - that would be an unwelcome part of their father's past that was as good as dead and gone.

They were ghosts in this world. Removed from it, and yet a part of it all the same. Her story in this mortal world was over. Wherever Asmodeus had gone - wherever his cults had fled - they weren't her problem anymore. She had chosen to give all that up to stand at Adrian's side - and it had been ripped away from her along with her freedom when Asmodeus had put the curse over her heart.

"I need a stiff drink," she complained.

Adrian chuckled at her summation of events into that, and shook his head. "Your wish is my command, my lady." Veil didn't even make a fuss when he swept them up into a swarm of bats and headed for the horizon. Once you got over trying to make sense of what was happening and simply went along for the ride, it wasn't nearly so bad. Well, most of the time, anyway.

* * *

Every year on the anniversary, Veil would stand next to Adrian in front of his family tomb. Every year, he would light the cauldrons on either side, in tribute now to both his mother and father. It seemed they would always be carrying out these rituals of death and the commemoration of it.

It was clear, that no small part of Adrian missed his father. Missed the simplicity of their life before he had taken the throne. Veil had no small part to play in that - as she was the reason he was now so much dust on the wind.

The thought of oblivion made Veil shudder. But in time, she might welcome it as a friend - rather than this endless existence. For they were headed down the same path as Vlad had been forced to walk. Although at least, they had each other.

Things had become.. Normal. Life took a pattern. Veil was now - laughably - 'queen' of this place. She was Adrian's sense of humor - the counterpoint to his seriousness. And he was the rational and self-sacrificing king. While the castle was not without its drama or its horror - it was… peaceful.

No bands of holy priests or vampire hunters came pounding on the door, demanding entry to strike down the wicked monsters within. Indeed - the world seemed keen to dutifully ignore them entirely. She would wonder if they weren't trapped in her madness still, if it weren't for that people still traveled to their door to seek shelter and sanctuary for one reason or another. For knowledge - for immortality and power - or to feed some dark hunger they couldn't sate elsewhere.

'This was how it once was,' Adrian had said to her one night. 'When Mother was alive. When Vlad did not seek the ruin of mankind.'

'I don't think he ever wanted to destroy the world,' she had told him. And she still believed it. 'I think he just didn't know how else to exist in it anymore.' Now facing down eternity in the same way he had - she didn't know as she blamed him.

"If I ever sink into madness such as he did," Adrian said from beside her, where they stood watching the fires burn in the cauldrons on the stairs of his family's mausoleum. "Would you rend my soul from my body, such as you did for him?"

"To save the world..?" she preambled to stall for time. "Yes. To save you from eternity? No. That's a gun I can't turn on myself. And I won't… I can't do this alone. I won't send you into the void unless it means you would send all of the earth to hell instead."

His hand found hers again, and squeezed it gently. That answer seemed good enough for him. "It is hard, to fathom becoming nothing. For all my days, I have been told of heaven and hell. For all my life, I have dreamt of joining my friends and my mother in heaven. To now that my only way out of this world is to become nothing at all is… a horror that I cannot fully comprehend."

Veil nodded. "I never had to worry about it. I never will. Now, what'll become of me, is I'll just… dissolve back into madness. I'll trade you," she said with a sarcastic half-laugh.

"No, I think not," he responded in his dry humor. She shoulder checked him in the arm - nudging him playfully. "Sometimes… I wonder if mother is at peace with what became of him. That he will never join her."

"Do you think he could have anyway? I mean, I assume she's…" _in heaven,_ she finished. And realized she really didn't know anything about the afterlife - only that it existed. She had no clue how it really worked. Even if she was 'related' to an archangel, and had been 'married' to a fallen one. Veil had entirely _no_ concept of how 'heaven and hell' really worked - or if they even really existed.

"Things are rarely so simple," came a voice from behind them. Adrian and Veil turned in unison - not having expected an intrusion. She blinked in surprise at who had spoken - standing there with his bright eyes and warm smile.

"Azrael..?" she asked, and turned to face her 'father.' She hadn't seen him since… well, that she could remember, since before Asmodeus put her under that curse. Adrian told her it was Azrael who had brought him to her - who had freed her of her curse. But that after he had unwittingly shattered her mind, he had left and not returned.

On seeing her, Azrael's smile faltered. A deep look of shame came over his face, and he looked to the ground - unable to meet her gaze. Veil left Adrian's side and walked up to the sheepish archangel. She reached out, and hugged him. She knew why he felt such grief. She knew that he likely blamed himself for what had happened - it was a dumb thing to do. But if they switched places, that's how she would feel. "Hey, dad…" she said to him quietly. A greeting, a confirmation, and forgiveness for what had happened, all in one.

His arms wrapped around her and he hugged her with such intensity she knew he had thought he would never again get the chance. "I am glad you are well - or, rather, as well as can be expected…" he referenced her lingering 'issues.' Night terrors, momentary loss of awareness of herself or where she was. Missing time and memories. But the moments were coming fewer and far between these days. The normalcy of their lives - the routine of it, helped. "I could not… I did not know how to visit sooner."

"It's alright," she said with a smile, and took both his hands in hers. "I get it. I really do."

His face drew in pain as he seemed to viscerally relieve some painful moment. Maybe when he had freed her from Alistair's curse - and dropped her into a pit of madness instead. "I am so sorry," he whispered to her. "Forgive me, I-"

"Don't be stupid," she scolded him and couldn't help it - reached up and ruffled his hair. He laughed quietly, and watched her with a fondness that made her smile at him. "All's well that ends well," she said with a grin. "Besides. I'd rather have not spent eternity as a mindless puppet. I'd rather have been crazy."

"So he said," Azrael responded with a glance over her shoulder to Adrian. "And he was not wrong. And… on the matter of 'all's well that ends well,' I thought perhaps I could answer your query, Adrian."

"What query..?" the dhampir asked.

"Whether or not your mother is at rest," Azrael smiled faintly. "I would know, after all, wouldn't I?" He took in a breath, and let it out before speaking again - giving some space to what he was about to say. "Worry not for her soul. For it is at peace with all that she sees. For they are _both_ at peace with what they see has become of their son."

"What?!" Adrian and Veil said in unison.

Azrael laughed, and smiled sheepishly again. "I could not very well let my oldest human friend end in nothingness. It was not a fair exit to someone who had suffered as much as he. His crimes were arguably paid with his hell on earth - and Lisa was owed a debt. I think it was more for her sake than his, that I was allowed to snatch his soul from the jaws of the void."

"You're kidding me!" Veil said with an astonished sound and took a moment to pace away, and look up at the Tepes vault before looking back to her 'father.' "You mean he… he's free. Really free from all this."

Azrael nodded. "Where they are is… complicated. It does not really matter - and would require a many hour lecture on the finer points of the greater planes of the universe and… They are neither in heaven nor hell. Call it 'limbo' if you will. But, regardless - well, they are immeasurably proud of you, Adrian. Of you both." He pulled in a breath. "Except, perhaps, for one thing, Adrian - that you saw fit to ignore a proper wedding ceremony."

"It seemed stupid, all things considered," Veil said with a shrug. "What with my being half-mad after all." Veil made a face suddenly. "And what the fuck - it's not like he had any respect for what was 'proper' and what wasn't! And he hated the church!"

"He 'saw fit to marry Lisa, after all,' he said, when he predicted one of you would protest," Azrael shrugged, and raised his hands in a 'don't shoot the messenger' kind of way. "I'm only telling you what he told me."

Adrian sighed and when she looked over at him, the dhampir king had his hand over his face. "Even from the grave, father… you find means to jest at my expense."

Veil thought about it, and then decided… why the hell not. "Might as well give the dead bastard what he wants. Well, what do you say, Adrian?" Veil said with a snort. "You, me and the priest. And you, too, Dad, if you want to come. Nobody else. I don't want a big thing. We'll pop a bottle of champagne and call it done."

Adrian lowered his hand and looked at her first in surprise, then curiosity - then transitioned to a mild amusement. "Very well."

* * *

If you had asked him, at any point prior to this moment in his life - if he would ever be wed… he would have offered a rare laugh and a resounding 'do not be ludicrous.'

Except, perhaps, when he was a child. When he was a boy, in this place he called home - he had dreamed of his princess. Who he would wed and make a queen some day. For Vlad had told him that one day, all the castle would be his. He did not understand what it meant when he was a naive, ignorant child. He did not understand what would have to transpire for this moment to occur.

But now that he could look back upon it, it all seemed like some master plan his father had laid before him for generations. That it had all come to this - as if orchestrated by some maestro. And what was his father, but simply that? The greatest tactician the world might ever know?

When his father descended into bloodthirsty madness at the loss of Lisa - he had thought all of his future had been dashed before him. That all he would ever become was another forlorn painting on the wall - the memory of a man who once was. The tragic prince, forever doomed to battle until he died.

Yet, here he stood. At the altar of the castle's great cathedral. The room was empty, save for a precious few. Lyon, stood betwixt them and slightly towards the altar - reading from a book in his hands. Azrael sat in a pew, next to… of all people, Elizabeth. His 'cousin' would not be denied entry. It was not worth making a scene. And besides, she _had_ helped Veil dress for the occasion. Truth be told, he could not fault her for her presence.

Veil was stunning - standing before him in finery she had made a great fuss about having to wear. 'The only two times you'll catch me in anything like this is now, and if you ever have to bury my dead ass, and we know _that_ won't ever happen-' she had complained vehemently under her breath at him before the ceremony had started. Adrian had tried not to laugh - and only smiled at how uncomfortable she was. Oh, but how she looked like a vision from his dreams. Her sapphire hair had been done up in curls and elegant waves - decorated with pearls and stones that offset the deep color.

Adrian even barely registered the exchange of vows - so distracted he was, by the moment itself. So caught up in all that this meant in his life, and in his soul. He had dismissed the ceremony of it all as a paltry scrap of pageantry - but now that he was in the moment, he could not deny that it held some manner of weight he could not understand.

Even Veil seemed effected. Her lips were twisted in an an odd, awkward and shy smile that he had never once seen her wear in his time knowing her. Lyon - meanwhile, could not have looked more the role of the proud parent. Somehow even more so than Azrael.

The rings. He had to have his father's resized to fit him - for it was far too large. He let Veil place the ring on his finger, as she recited the vows as was the tradition. It was a simple band of metal that he could not identify - somewhere between steel and zinc perhaps - like many of the metal gravestones that dotted the yards. He had never asked his father why he had chosen a band that was so plain - but perhaps, it was for its honesty that he had picked it.

It was his turn, and it seemed he had nearly missed his cue, he was so very much caught in his thoughts. He stammered uselessly for a moment, sighed, took a moment, and tried again this time more successfully. Veil was clearly suppressing a laugh at his expense. He lifted her hand, and, repeating the same vow, slipped her ring onto her finger. Simple as well, but out of white gold. A twist in the band to look as though it were braided. Vlad had recovered it from the fire that had destroyed Lisa - but had chosen not to bury it with his wife. For this express reason, apparently… In hopes that someday, Adrian would place it upon the hand of his own bride.

Perhaps for that reason alone, Vlad had sent a message back from the grave - from his seemingly impossible victory over his doomed existence. That his act of recovering Lisa's ring would not go to waste. It seemed oddly fitting.

"Adrian."

Lyon's voice was gentle - but firm. It was the sound of a disapproving school teacher. Adrian blinked back into the present moment, and looked over to him. "Hm?"

Veil was snickering - and had put one hand over her face and turned it away to keep from laughing outright.

"Will you please pay attention..?" Lyon said with a smirk. "For one more second?"

"I- ah-" Adrian gritted his teeth and nodded once. He had lost track of what was happening again, he had been so absorbed into his thoughts. This was an ill time to let his focus escape him.

"I _said-"_ Lyon repeated himself, with all the affected patience of a saint. "You may now kiss the bride."

For that, Adrian would follow his advice without question. With a hand laced gently into the hair at the base of her neck, he pressed his lips gently to Veil's. For a moment, he reflected upon their existence once more. For they were both broken, damaged creatures. Children of the damned - children of cruel gods. Each, in their own right, trapped halfway between the living and the dead. Each, in their own right - struggling to find their own way in this world.

Each, in their own right, finding love in the other.

* * *

 **There you have it! I hope you enjoyed this tale. It's done (for now… Never say never, but no sequels planned for the moment.)**

 **Thank you all for reading - it really does mean the world to me to know that there are people out there enjoying my silly stories.**


	26. Where did I go?

Hello everybody!

I'm not dead. I promise. I thought I'd post a quick update (and a shameless plug.) All my spare time has been spent working on publishing my own dark fantasy/romance series. (Featuring a few familiar OC faces, including everybody's favorite, Lyon.)

If you're interested in reading my novel, the first of the six part series is available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. doesn't allow links, so just google search "King of Flames by Kathryn Ann Kingsley" and I should pop up.

Thanks again everyone, and I'll be back soon!

-Kat


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